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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28913385">Fifty Shades of Dean // a heathers story // #1 FSoD</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkyfrositng321/pseuds/inkyfrositng321'>inkyfrositng321</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fifty Shades Trilogy [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fifty Shades of Grey - All Media Types, Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy &amp; O'Keefe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BDSM, Canon Rewrite, Complete, Dom/sub, Erotica, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Love, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:48:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28913385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkyfrositng321/pseuds/inkyfrositng321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>because i love to write and have a lot of time this Christmas, I'm going to be rewriting Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James. I kinda liked it. parts of it really were just s w o o n. but the bottom line is that it was creepy and abusive. so, with my limited experience and some research, I'm going to try to make this realistic and safe and a fun read. </p><p>also, I'm using heathers characters because it's my favorite movie. and i feel the tone of "creepy and abusive" fits that movie too.... we're killing two birds with one stone! :)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason "J. D." Dean &amp; Veronica Sawyer, Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fifty Shades Trilogy [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>BDSM Fanfiction, FiftyShadesFanfiction, Heathers Fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. les champs-elysées</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>*set in the present. well, 2019. no covid. that would make this very hard ahaha...*<br/>
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>I must never, ever, ever sleep with my hair wet again. Because whenever I do, it becomes a frizzed and tangled mop of brown on my head. It looks decently alright if I blow dry it after a morning shower. But that would require me waking up early and that is something I will never do.</p>
<p>So I get out the flat iron and go to work. After it's straight, I take a few bobby pins and hair ties to create my favorite look- one I call the "Beauty and the Beast." Really, it's just a half-up with a knot at the top of my head. But it makes me feel in tune with my childhood idol.</p>
<p>Even more so like the yellow-clad royal, I trip over a stack of haphazard paperbacks while looking for my shoes. I scowl at them like it's their fault. Finally finding my flats, I slip them on and leave the books to fend for themselves for a few hours.</p>
<p>Betty, my roommate, lies making dying noises on the couch. I frown at her.</p>
<p>"You're such a wuss," I tease, patting the top of her head. She looks up at me with a scowl. Her nose is red from the numerous tissues scattered around her.</p>
<p>"Vera, you don't understand. I'm dying. Do you have no sympathy?!" she whines, burying into her blanket.</p>
<p>I sigh. "There's soup in the fridge for you to heat up and I assume you know how to work a Keurig?"</p>
<p>"Yes, yes, I won't burn the place down."</p>
<p>"Good. Thank you. Also, make sure you take another dose of Dayquil in a few hours. Alright?"</p>
<p>She nods. "I have the notes and the tape recorder in a bag by the door. Don't forget it!"</p>
<p>"I won't, Betty." I kiss the top of her head. "Bye."</p>
<p>She waves me off as I scoop up the bag and one of those bottled Starbucks frappuccinos from the fridge. Mocha, the best flavor. I walk down the hall of our apartment building, already pulling out my phone. With an audiobook qued up, Little Women because it's the best, I connect my AirPods and walk out into the chilly dawn. It's still dark out. Jesus, what I do for friendship.</p>
<p>What I'm doing for friendship is driving five hours to interview some hotshot executive for her newspaper. This guy is in downtown Chicago and I'm driving right through Indianapolis at rush hour. Not only that, I'm meeting him at ten AM! Which puts me at leaving at about four-thirty because I'm paranoid.</p>
<p>Betty owes me a big one. If she wasn't sick, she'd be doing this. But here we are. The opportunity is too good for her to pass up, I know.</p>
<p>I start the car and go on my way, siping my coffee bleary-eyed and trying to pay attention to my book I've read about a billion times. It's a dreary morning, drizzling ridiculously. If you're going to pour, pour. I dare you, Sky.</p>
<p>Jo has shot down Laurie's proposal as I attempt to parallel park in front of this skyscraper of an office building. The sky has decided to listen to me and it's coming down heavy. I unfurl my umbrella and rush to the door. Some businessman in a suit holds the door open for me on his way out.</p>
<p>A lady at the front desk gestures to a rack of those plastic umbrella bags and I take one, slipping mine in. I walk up to the desk. It's so clean in here. White floors, grey walls, glass everywhere. She's got gorgeous red hair pulled back into a tight bun, typing.</p>
<p>"Name, ma'am?" she says.</p>
<p>I clear my throat. "Uh, Veronica Sawyer. But I'm here for Betty Finn. She's sick. I'm her replacement."</p>
<p>The redhead looks up at me. "Uhhuh... one moment, please."</p>
<p>She picks up a black receiver and presses a number on the phone's keypad. I bounce on my toes, trying to warm up. Somehow I still managed to be soaked. At least Betty's bag stayed dry.</p>
<p>Then she's walking away and I'm left at the desk. I survey the place while I wait. There are a few people scattered about, going to elevators to start their day. And a lot of paintings and potted plants and one of those grand pianos that are for show and really just have a speaker in them to make it seem like someone's playing. I recognize the song, Mozart's fifth. One of my favorites.</p>
<p>"Alright, Miss Sawyer, my apologies. Right this way," the redhead says. I follow her to an elevator and she presses the top button. I curl into the corner. I hate elevators. But then again, this building is much too big for me to take the stairs.</p>
<p>It's over soon and she leads me to these two big, solid doors at the end of the hall. I pull out the papers from Betty's bag as she opens the door for me. I smile at her and step in. The moment I do, a big gust of air blows the papers out of my arms and around the room.</p>
<p>"Shit!" I exclaim. A man looking out the opposite window turns and looks at me. He sees my predicament and rushes to help me pick them all up. He and I are on our knees, laughing as he hands me his disheveled stack.</p>
<p>"Here you are, Miss Sawyer," he says.</p>
<p>I take them with a blush. "Thank you so much, sir. I'm sorry."</p>
<p>He stands and holds out his hand to help me up. I take it and he pulls me upright. His hands are so warm! They're like little toasted rolls or something. I don't know. But they're so much bigger than mine.</p>
<p>"Oh, it's my fault, really," he says. "I've been meaning to get that blasted AC fixed for days."</p>
<p>I laugh, thumbing through the papers. "I think that's all of them. Thanks."</p>
<p>"Shall we get started?" He starts walking toward his sleek desk. It's practically spotless. "I'm sorry, I don't really do much of the "interview" thing. I'm actually not quite sure what to do. That's my dad. The people person."</p>
<p>I sit in one of the upholstered chairs facing his desk and smile. "Well, that's something we have in common. I'm an interviewer-virgin as well."</p>
<p>"So you aren't studying journalism with Miss Finn?"</p>
<p>I laugh. "God, no! English and technical writing."</p>
<p>"In the same ballpark, I suppose." He perches himself on the edge of his desk and folds his hands in his lap. I take stock of him. Dark hair, neatly tucked. Black suit, grey tie. Very clean. His eyes are a sort of grey color. But not cold. No, he just seems like such a warm person. Funny, too.</p>
<p>"Alright," I say, breaking our gaze. I wonder if he was studying me. "First question. What is it like having inherited the family company so young?"</p>
<p>He purses his lips. "Well, considering I'm my father's only son, I knew it would happen soon. He's older than my mother, too. I knew he would retire before I could ever really be ready. So I've been getting ready for this my whole life, I suppose. And here I am."</p>
<p>"Must be rough. Having all that weight on your shoulders."</p>
<p>"The pains of being privileged," he mutters. "I don't mind it. I love working, I really do. I love my employees and all the things I can do with these gorgeous opportunities."</p>
<p>I swallow. Good Lord, he's adorable. He has a coffee mug in his hands now, sipping it slowly. He keeps looking around his office, over at the wall to the left at me. I steal a glance. It's covered in these identically framed portraits of all these men. There's also one of a woman, red hair and smiling eyes.</p>
<p>"So, uh, next one. How do you even begin to manage such a vast enterprise?"</p>
<p>He sets down his mug, crossing his arms. I feel like I'm in a fishbowl and he's peering in.</p>
<p>"Business is all about people, and I've always been good at that, surprisingly. I don't like people. But I love them. Funny, huh?" He stands up, going to the window. "It's not like I would choose to spend time with them or consider myself extroverted. But helping people and bettering them so that they can better their lives... that's love. It's like that saying about teaching a man to fish. If I pour into my employees, they'll pour into the company. Voilá."</p>
<p>I scribble down every word. Then I remember the audio recorder. I turn it on and set it on the coffee table in front of me. He keeps staring out the window. I fumble through my papers for more questions. I feel so inept. Why did I think I could do this again? He's obviously so brilliant. And I'm just... not cut out for that.</p>
<p>"Do you have any interests outside your work?" I ask.</p>
<p>He chuckles. "Hobbies, you mean?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. Hobbies. Like, I don't know, scrapbooking."</p>
<p>"Scrapbooking? For a person with no memories to hang on to?" He turns to me with a wayward grin. "No, nothing artsy. I play the piano. And the saxophone. I like old movies and even older music. Excercise. Solo activities."</p>
<p>"Sounds like me." I bite my lip. "Except, I play the flute."</p>
<p>He laughs. "We'll start a band, then."</p>
<p>"Do you travel?" I lean forward. "You seem like the type of person to travel."</p>
<p>"Tell that to my collection of passports that keep filling up." He walks to his desk and bends down, opening a drawer. "That's the best privilege of this life. Being able to see the world. And having wonderful employees to man the ship while you're away."</p>
<p>He sets a Berluti shoebox on his desk and digs around, holding up a postcard to some European city. "A strange collection, I know. I have one for every place I've ever been to. And I keep it here because someday I'll find a big enough bulletin board to keep them all and I'll hang it in here."</p>
<p>"Wow," I murmur. I step forward, looking at the dozens of pictures. "I've always wanted to travel the world."</p>
<p>He finds one from Paris, complete with the Musée d'Orsay. "Here," he says, holding it out to me. "I have a work trip there coming up in a few weeks. I'll just buy another then."</p>
<p>"Wow," I repeat. "Thank you."</p>
<p>We end up talking for nearly an hour. About books and songs and movies and paintings and the places I'd love to see that he's been. He's busy describing the Sherlock Holmes museum in London to me when a blonde woman appears in the doorway.</p>
<p>"Um, Mr. Dean, your next meeting is in the conference room," she says shyly.</p>
<p>Both our eyes widen. He looks at an elegant watch and curses under his breath.</p>
<p>"I'm so sorry," I say quickly, rushing to get my things together. "I didn't realize-"</p>
<p>"It's fine. I had a wonderful time, Miss Sawyer." He's gathering up papers of his own when I sling Betty's bag over my shoulder. "Good luck on your finals."</p>
<p>"And you have fun in Paris." I shake his hand goodbye. "Make sure you visit Bouquinistes on the Seine for me."</p>
<p>Mr. Dean nods. "And buy a copy of, what was it?"</p>
<p>"Les Miserables."</p>
<p>"Right. WIll do." He grins, doing a little bow. "Au revoir, mademoiselle."</p>
<p>"Au revoir." I wave before exiting quickly. I'm going to be so late for work.</p>
<p>It's on the way home that I realize I left the list of questions in his office.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. jumper cables</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>because i love to write and have a lot of time this Christmas, I'm going to be rewriting Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James. I kinda liked it. parts of it really were just s w o o n. but the bottom line is that it was creepy and abusive. so, with my limited experience and some research, I'm going to try to make this realistic and safe and a fun read. </p>
<p>also, I'm using heathers characters because it's my favorite movie. and i feel the tone of "creepy and abusive" fits that movie too.... we're killing two birds with one stone! :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Betty's pestering me with questions as I quickly get ready for work. I tell her I'll explain later and book it to Flemming's Hardware.</p>
<p>Mrs. Flemming's showing a customer paint chips when I walk in, flustered. She tuts. "You're late, dear."</p>
<p>"I know, I'm so sorry. You can dock my pay. I was doing a favor for a friend."</p>
<p>She nods. "It's alright. Just go get your apron. Can you restock the shelves, please?"</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am." I head to the break room and set down my stuff. I tie the apron around my waist and grab one of the cardboard boxes full of paint rollers.</p>
<p>I hum to myself as I work. I love this place. It's always so calm. But I know in a few days it'll pick up as summer starts and everyone starts DIYing and building pool decks and garden boxes and things.</p>
<p>As I move on to organizing the power tools, my phone rings. I glance over my shoulder and don't see either of the Flemming's, so I answer.</p>
<p>"Hello?" I say.</p>
<p>My mother sighs. "Hi, dear. I have bad news."</p>
<p>"Oh, what's wrong?"</p>
<p>"Your father broke his foot." She chuckles a little. "Golfing, of all things."</p>
<p>I gasp. "No! Is he alright?"</p>
<p>"Well, he seems to be toughing it out. But... that means we can't come to your graduation."</p>
<p>I'm quiet for a moment. This can't be happening. My eyes are burning.</p>
<p>"Mom... really? You couldn't just come alone?"</p>
<p>"And leave Tiger Woods to fend for himself? Ha! I'm so sorry, sweetie. Take lots of pictures. We'll visit as soon as he's better."</p>
<p>I press the back of my hand to my mouth. "Alright. I have to go. I'm at work. Bye. Love you."</p>
<p>"I love you too, Vera."</p>
<p>She hangs up and I sigh, leaning against the wall. I take a deep breath as the disappointment fades a little. At least Betty and Ram will be there.</p>
<p>Speaking of Ram, when I get back home he's chatting with Betty as she spoons soup into her mouth. I set my car keys down on the kitchen counter with the mail and sigh. Betty looks at me quizzically.</p>
<p>"What's the matter, Ron?" she asks.</p>
<p>I find a wine glass and pour myself some. "Dad broke his foot. They can't come to graduation."</p>
<p>"That sucks," Ram says, walking to me. He hugs me and I squeeze him back.</p>
<p>Ram's the relentless player, I must say. He has a girl at his place all the time. And I really don't care at all. It isn't my cup of tea to sleep around so much. But to each their own.</p>
<p>One thing hasn't changed, though. Ever since we dated for like two weeks before deciding it was a bad idea and just being friends, he's still crushed on me. Even through girlfriend (and some boyfriends) after girlfriend. So I know he's extra-eager to hug.</p>
<p>"Luckily," he says as he pulls away. "I come bearing some good news, too."</p>
<p>I sit on the couch and take a sip of my drink. "Oh?"</p>
<p>"A gallery in downtown Columbus wants to show my photos," he says. "There's gonna be a show in a month. You two have to come."</p>
<p>My eyes widen and I nearly choke on my wine. This'll be his big break. He is an amazing photographer. Yet another reason, besides his good looks, why girls flock to him.</p>
<p>"Oh my god! Ram, that's awesome!" I say. "Have some wine, let's celebrate."</p>
<p>We play Yahtzee for hours and I win most of the rounds and soon Ram's sleeping on the couch because he's too drunk to drive home. I pass out on my bed, thinking of the Dean man as I drift off.</p>
<p>-xXx-</p>
<p>Saturday at work is a nightmare. Flocks of people come to stock up on swingset screws and deck paint. I'm swamped until my lunch break, the lull in the day. I annotate in the margins of Tess of the D'Urbervilles as I eat a bagel smothered in cream cheese. My thesis won't write itself, after all.</p>
<p>A bell tingles and I look up, shocked at our visitor.</p>
<p>"Miss Sawyer?" the man gawks, frozen in the doorway.</p>
<p>I slip in my bookmark and swallow my food. "Mr. Dean? What are you doing here?!"</p>
<p>"I was in town and I need jumper cables, actually. My car died about a block down."</p>
<p>I laugh, walking to him and wiping bagel crumbs off my mouth. "Here, let me show you."</p>
<p>He follows me to the back with all the other auto-related things. I bend down and retrieve the cables, holding them out to him. Mr. Dean takes them thankfully.</p>
<p>"So what brings you to Colombus?" I ask as I ring him up.</p>
<p>"Meetings. I'm staying at the LeVeque..." He sighs as he looks at his watch. "Seems as if I'm gonna be late. Oh well. Not like they can start without me."</p>
<p>I chuckle as I print his receipt. "You're awful."</p>
<p>"Nah." He smirks. "How's Miss Finn's news report coming?"</p>
<p>"Good. Seems I left the list of questions at your office-"</p>
<p>"Yeah, I know. I emailed her the answers to every question since we got a little... sidetracked."</p>
<p>I bite my lip. "Oh. Thank you. She was talking so fast last night I could hardly understand what she was talking about. That must've been it."</p>
<p>He takes his receipt and bag, pocketing his wallet in his dress pants. Mr. Dean purses his lips for a moment. "Since I'm in town, do you know of any good places to get coffee?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yeah. There's this little place called Perks and it's on the corner of Armstrong and Worden. I suggest the americano."</p>
<p>He pulls out a pen and writes something on his receipt, handing it back to me. "Well, call me up and we can get coffee. I leave next week."</p>
<p>"Next week?" I raise an eyebrow. "Why so long?"</p>
<p>"Giving the commencement speech at graduation." He waves, starting to walk out the door. "Bye, Miss Sawyer! Thanks for the help!"</p>
<p>I wave weakly before looking back at his number written on the receipt. I add it to a contact and sigh. This is crazy.</p>
<p>When I tell Betty that night, she goes bananas.</p>
<p>"He gave you his WHAT?!"</p>
<p>I laugh. "His number, Betty. You know, for like... calling?"</p>
<p>"Oh my GOD! This is totally a booty call."</p>
<p>I nearly drop the pan of lasagna I carry to the table. "A what?!"</p>
<p>"A booty call. You know, for like...sex."</p>
<p>I blush. "Untrue. Stop it. No. He just wants to go out for coffee as friends. He probably just doesn't want to get lost. And anyway, what makes you think I would sleep with him anyway?"</p>
<p>She doesn't miss a beat. "The look on your face when you talk about him. You think he's hot."</p>
<p>"Well, he is! That doesn't mean-"</p>
<p>"Shhh." She smirks at me. "Don't worry your pretty head. I'm so playing matchmaker."</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Yes. I can see it now. You'd look so good in Versace and Gucci and all that fancy shit. You know he'd spoil you. You know it."</p>
<p>I slam my hands onto the table. "Betty," I say, "nothing is going to happen. If it'll make you shut up, I won't even go."</p>
<p>She rolls her eyes, sipping her herbal tea for her throat. She's getting better, at least. Finals do start Monday...</p>
<p>"Alright." She props her feet up on the chair next to her. Her face is all teasing. The mean type of teasing. "Don't say I didn't warn you..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. skinny vanilla latte</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>because i love to write and have a lot of time this Christmas, I'm going to be rewriting Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James. I kinda liked it. parts of it really were just s w o o n. but the bottom line is that it was creepy and abusive. so, with my limited experience and some research, I'm going to try to make this realistic and safe and a fun read. </p>
<p>also, I'm using heathers characters because it's my favorite movie. and i feel the tone of "creepy and abusive" fits that movie too.... we're killing two birds with one stone! :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I sign my name at the top of my last final exam and dot my 'i' with a flourish. My hand is tired from all those essay-questions. I massage my palm as I look over at the clock. My phone buzzes in my pocket as I'm walking out of the classroom. </p>
<p><em>PROBLEM!</em> </p>
<p>Betty's text is frantic enough for me to call her. She picks up first ring.</p>
<p>"What?" I say, gripping my backpack straps. </p>
<p>She moans. "There isn't a <em>single</em> good picture in the universe of this guy!"</p>
<p>"Wait, back up. Who?"</p>
<p>"Dean, stupid!" She huffs. I can hear keys clicking. "They're all either crappy sneaky shots by paparazzi or copyrighted. I can't use any of these!"</p>
<p>"And what exactly do you want me to do about that?"</p>
<p>She's quiet for a moment. "You <em>do</em> have his number..."</p>
<p>"Betty!" I stop in the hallway, my stomach twisting. "I'm not gonna call him just to get a picture, seriously."</p>
<p>She whines. "Pretty please. I'll be your best friend."</p>
<p>"You are my best friend, bitch. And fine. You owe me big-time."</p>
<p>"Chinese food on me for lunch kind of big-time?"</p>
<p>I roll my eyes and start walking to my car. "More like you do the dishes for two weeks big-time."</p>
<p>"I will <em>never</em> touch a sponge. Ta-ta, darling, thank you so much!"</p>
<p>She hangs up as I sit behind the steering wheel. I dial up Mr. Dean.</p>
<p>"Dean," he says, sounding a little pressed.</p>
<p>I swallow. "Um, this is Veronica Sawyer. Sorry, is this a bad time?"</p>
<p>"No, no, this is fine. How are you?"</p>
<p>"Fine." I start my car's engine, propping up my phone with my shoulder. "Look, so, Betty's having a bit of an issue with the article. Turns out she can't find a picture of you that isn't copyrighted. I don't know what she wants me to do with this information, but she begged me to call you."</p>
<p>He thinks for a moment. "I'm free this afternoon. Would she like an original?"</p>
<p>"An ori- Mr. Dean, I think that's a bit much."</p>
<p>"Nah. It'll be fine. I have nothing better to do, after all. Maybe then we can try out Perks afterward."</p>
<p>Shit. Now it probably seems like I don't want to hang out with him. But I totally do.</p>
<p>"Yeah, that would be great. It looks like rain, though. So cross your fingers. Where should we meet you? I have a friend who I know is free and is great with cameras."</p>
<p>I flip on my blinker, avoiding a fellow student crossing the crosswalk when it isn't their turn. Jesus, how have I not hit someone in all four years of school?</p>
<p>"How about noon? Does that work for you? I can get a room arranged at the LeVeque, where I'm staying."</p>
<p>"Wonderful. I'll call Betty and Ram."</p>
<p>"Ram?"</p>
<p>"The photographer guy. College friend."</p>
<p>He chuckles. "Old boyfriend?"</p>
<p> "Shut up," I laugh. "Maybe. He's been effectively friend-zoned. Goodbye, nosy Mr. Dean."</p>
<p>"Goodbye, lovely Miss Sawyer."</p>
<p>He hangs up. I take a deep breath to call my racing heart. It doesn't work. I'll surely be ordering decaf today. I don't need more energy. I feel like I could take off or climb a mountain or do calculus (a class I would have definitely not passed in tenth grade if I hadn't done the extra credit.)</p>
<p>I slip on my sunglasses and start the drive home. I hate rainy days. They terrify me. At least they do when I'm driving on the roads. Usually, I love thunderstorms. But not wet roads. It was a wet road that did it, anyway.... </p>
<p>Betty and Ram meet me at the hotel. He has his camera's and is setting up frantically. A girl in a red blouse and jeans is helping him. He introduced me to her quickly and the name doesn't stick. Only that they met in some lighting class. </p>
<p>Mr. Dean comes in, fiddling with his tie. I watch him, standing by Betty. A tall man with a scary-looking stubble is with him. I make a note to ask about him later. Ram asks me to stand in for lighting. I have to have a stool since Mr. Dean is so much taller than me. When all is set and he's about to get in front of the camera, I stop him.</p>
<p>"Your tie is messed up," I murmur, quickly tucking it correctly.</p>
<p>He laughs. "Why thank you, Miss Sawyer."</p>
<p>"Anytime." I grin and step back by Betty. She gives me a look, leaning in to whisper loudly,</p>
<p>"Oh. My. Goodness." She wraps her arms around me and giggles. "Somebody has a crush..."</p>
<p>I poke her arm. "<em>Stop</em>. This is <em>your</em> deal. I want him to look presentable."</p>
<p>"I didn't mean you, honey." She nods her head in his direction. "Look at him. He won't stop looking at you."</p>
<p>My heart flutters when I see she's right. His eyes are creased in the corners just a little bit because of his subtle smile. Ram snaps his pictures.</p>
<p>It's all over quite soon. Betty stays to look over the photos as Mr. Dean and I walk down the hall together, towards the elevator. The James Bond-y dude is a few paces behind us. </p>
<p>"Who's double-o-seven over there?" I ask as he presses the gilded elevator call button.</p>
<p>Mr. Dean laughs as he loosens his tie and slips it into his pocket. "Security. But he'll love that you said that."</p>
<p>"You have <em>security?</em> How many Blofeld's do you come into contact with?"</p>
<p>"Enough." He smirks. Apparently, Security Dude is taking the next elevator down because Mr. Dean lets the doors close. I cross my arms, stepping back into the corner with a grimace. "What's wrong?"</p>
<p>I gesticulate abstractly. "Not a big fan of elevators. Confinement isn't really my thing."</p>
<p>"So what is your thing?" He leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow. </p>
<p>I keep my eyes on the descending floor numbers, holding my breath. "I don't know, books? Music? I don't really have much of a thing."</p>
<p>"Hey, are you okay?" He reaches out and touches my arm. "You look kinda pale."</p>
<p>"No, no, I'm fine." I swallow. "This is, uh, smaller than the one at your office. And it isn't glass. Those are better. I usually opt for stairs but..."</p>
<p>He laces his fingers in mine. "Come here. It's fine. Trust me, I'd pry the doors open to get you out if we got stuck."</p>
<p>I laugh a little as he leads me to the center. I stand still and it is a little better, I guess. Less space on all sides, but at least there <em>is</em> space. He keeps my hand in his, though, until we reach the bottom.</p>
<p>"See?" he teases. "Not so bad."</p>
<p>"Blah blah." I roll my eyes as he leads me by the hand through the lobby. </p>
<p>He gives my hand a squeeze. The lobby of the LeVeque looks like something out of a magazine. I missed it the first time since I was rushing to make it in time. But now I can admire it fully. White carved walls with red marble accents, gold speckled throughout, gorgeous and plush furniture. I crane my neck back all the way in wonder.</p>
<p>"Woah," I breathe. "Swanky."</p>
<p>Mr. Dean laughs and looks up with me. "I suppose it is. If you like this, I think you would be amazed by this one in Chicago. It's called Hotel EMC2."</p>
<p>"Like as in Einstien's e=mc²?"</p>
<p>"Correct." He pulls me towards the wide, gold-framed doors. "It's all sciency-decorated. Paintings and architecture and everything. And a delicious breakfast buffet. Oh! And the best part, if you have to order like more towels or whatever they have these fucking <em>robots</em> that come to your room."</p>
<p>My eyes widen, and he laughs. "<em>Robots?!"</em></p>
<p>"They're these little R2-D2 lookin' things. I forgot a toothbrush and so the front desk had some and this little guy rolls up to my door. Her name was Cleo."</p>
<p>"They have <em>names?"</em>  I clap. "Aww."</p>
<p>
  <b>a/n: i speak only facts. google the place. they're adorable and have little bowties and everything</b>
</p>
<p>He smiles as we walk down the sidewalk. I give directions and we keep chatting about hotels and what we would name our robot friends and whether or not the soap they give you at hotels actually works or is just a brick of wax. When we arrive at Perks, I'm so glad that Betty got the flu.</p>
<p>Because now I know him.</p>
<p>"So, shall we order, Miss Sawyer?" he asks.</p>
<p>"Oh, you can call me Veronica. And yes." I follow him to the front counter. It's then I realize he's still holding my hand. </p>
<p>Mr. Dean looks at me expectantly. "What would you like, Veronica?"</p>
<p>"Small americano, please. And a banana muffin." I blush. "I left my wallet with Betty. Here, do you have a PayPal or-"</p>
<p>"I can handle it, Veronica." </p>
<p>I frown. "Look, Mr. Dean, that's very sweet, but-"</p>
<p>"You can call me Jason. And it's only coffee. How about you go sit and I'll bring the drinks to the table?"</p>
<p>Something in that didn't seem like just a request. I nod and go to a table in the corner. I can't help glancing at my phone. Ram's texted me on the group chat with Betty and a few other college friends.</p>
<p>
  <em>party tonight, grads! 🍻🥳</em>
</p>
<p>I text him a "maybe" and pocket my phone. Jason strolls over to the table, somehow balancing my muffin and both drinks. He sets them on the table before sitting.</p>
<p>"There. Careful, it's pretty hot." He reaches for a napkin and wipes off the lid. "So, how were finals?"</p>
<p>I grin, picking off a piece of my muffin. "Easier than expected. Hand cramps were the worst part. I didn't know you could use a thousand words to talk about the <em>whale</em> in Moby Dick."</p>
<p>He chuckles, leaning forward on his elbows. "So is this it? You're done with school?"</p>
<p>"Yep. I get my diploma Saturday." I trace the rim of my cup. It's steaming up my glasses. "I think my friends and I are gonna go out tonight to celebrate."</p>
<p>Jason nods and sips his coffee. "What do you plan on doing now that you're done?"</p>
<p>"Probably move to Chicago with Betty. Her parents bought her a place there to be closer to them. She's offering me a pretty good deal on rent. There I'll probably get an internship at a publishing house. But what I <em>really</em> want to do is write."</p>
<p>"Write?"</p>
<p>I blush. "Promise not to laugh?"</p>
<p>"Depends," he muses.</p>
<p>"Romance. Probably YA. I don't know. YA has a special place in my heart. Helped me out of a rough time."</p>
<p>He has an odd sort of expression. Not amused, but not angry or anything. Not even impassive. But something.</p>
<p>"So you're into romance?"</p>
<p>I laugh. "Yeah, yeah I'd say so. I mean, I read Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë and all these old authors where love was the whole point. It's hard not to be."</p>
<p>"Do you have a boyfriend, Veronica?"</p>
<p>Now I snort, trying to cover it up with my hand. "God, no. Frankly, I've only had a handful of duds. I'm an Elizabeth with no Mr. Darcy at the moment."</p>
<p>He looks at me for a while longer, lingering. He drums his fingers against the table before saying, "I don't think it would be too hard for you to find one."</p>
<p>"You would be surprised." I take a bite of my muffin and chew slowly. A moment of quiet passes. "Do you have a girlfriend or something? I noticed one of the questions, one I would never ask, was if you were gay. Is this like... a thing?"</p>
<p>Jason shakes his head, completely amused. "No, I'm not gay. And I don't have a girlfriend."</p>
<p>"Do you intend on it?" I ask quickly. Too quickly. I couldn't stop myself. What are his intentions? Is Betty right? Doubtful.</p>
<p>He shrugs, taking a long sip from his coffee cup. "Perhaps someday. I'm no loverboy, Veronica."</p>
<p>"I doubt that." I lean forward, close enough to make my skin tingle. "I think you just don't let yourself."</p>
<p>"Love is hard when most people want you for other things."</p>
<p>I lean back. Poor thing. I'm sure it is hard. Not just in relationships but with friends and everyone else. They probably just want to get close to him for his money. Does it seem like I'm doing that?! Because I certainly am not. Frankly, I'm more intimidated by it all than intrigued. </p>
<p>We chat for what feels like hours of bliss. Really it was only an hour and a half. We went through two more orders of coffee and a plate of fresh fruit that we shared. When we're ready to leave, it's a torrential downpour.</p>
<p>"Fuck," he mutters as we step under the awning, glaring at his phone screen. "Bud's caught in traffic a block down."</p>
<p>I raise my eyebrows. "Is that Agent K's name?"</p>
<p>He laughs. "Yep." He's shrugging off his suit jacket coat, sighing. "It's going to be forever. We'll have to run for it."</p>
<p>We're already almost yelling to be heard over the rain. Certainly, his fancy designer shoes can't take this wetness. It's as if he can read my mind.</p>
<p>"I have a warranty." He holds the jacket over our heads. "Keep close. Don't get wet. On my count, okay?"</p>
<p>I nod.</p>
<p>"One, two, three!"</p>
<p>We take off in a quick sprint, dodging puddles and laughing and squealing and getting soaked to the bone anyway. I slip in my heels, fall flat on my ass in a pool of water, laughing. Jason gasps and quickly bends down to me. He's given up on staying dry, letting his bangs fall into his eyes.</p>
<p>"Are you okay?!" he asks, pulling me up shakily. "You quite nearly fell in the road, Veronica."</p>
<p>I brush back my stringy mop of wetness that obscures my vision. I'm forced to take off my glasses because the water droplets forming on the lenses are rendering me blinder than I am without the correction. He holds me by my shoulders, both of us just giddy for two people standing in the cold rain. For a very short moment, I wish he'd kiss me. </p>
<p>"I'm fine," I titter. "Wet ass, but whatever."</p>
<p>He smiles. "Well, we might as well just walk now. And <em>you</em> will not be standing on the side by the road."</p>
<p>"Touché, Dean." I walk to his other side and he takes my hand. We stroll along and he whistles a tune from <em>Singing In the Rain</em>. Eventually, we find his car and slide in. Bud scowls at us.</p>
<p>"You look like a sewer rat, sir," he says to Jason. </p>
<p>Jason smirks. "Never felt better, though."</p>
<p>I, on the other hand, am freezing. I reach to turn up the rear heat and rub my hands together. He wraps an arm around me. I tense for a moment. But even though he's equally soaked, there's a certain warmness about his embrace, too. From his eyes to his arms to his hands. So I let him hug me, looking at him through my wet lashes.</p>
<p>"What's your address? We can take you home," he says.</p>
<p>I nod. "2875 Olentangy River Road. Pull around the side, there's a second entrance closer to the stairs."</p>
<p>"No elevator?" Jason teases. I scrunch up my nose. </p>
<p>When we get there, he walks me to the door with an umbrella. I smile at him as I dig in my purse for the keys. This door's always kept locked unless you have your keycard. Oh, the perks of being friends with Betty Finn. Typical keys can be abandoned. And a three-minute commute, too.</p>
<p>"You gonna be okay?" he asks, the rain pattering on the nylon of his black umbrella. I'm standing so close to him to stay covered. My hair's a little dry after the ten-minute ride. </p>
<p>I smirk. "I think I'll be alright. Thanks for the ride."</p>
<p>"Anytime, Veronica." He bows playfully, careful to keep the umbrella still covering me.</p>
<p>When he straightens, I boldly peck his cheek with my lips. "Bye, Jason."</p>
<p>I glance over my shoulder as I walk through the door, seeing the bright look in his eyes as he touches his cheek, wiping off my lip gloss in awe. </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. party dress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>because i love to write and have a lot of time this Christmas, I'm going to be rewriting Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James. I kinda liked it. parts of it really were just s w o o n. but the bottom line is that it was creepy and abusive. so, with my limited experience and some research, I'm going to try to make this realistic and safe and a fun read. </p><p>also, I'm using heathers characters because it's my favorite movie. and i feel the tone of "creepy and abusive" fits that movie too.... we're killing two birds with one stone! :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>tw: alcohol, non-con (not rape), self-harm</b>
</p><p>Betty holds two bobby pins between her teeth as she carefully frees a curled tendril of hair from the curling iron. I dab my lips with lip gloss precariously.</p><p>"I don't see why you're curling my hair when it's already curly," I say.</p><p>She knits her brows in concentration. "You have Emma Watson circa 2001. I'm going for like a Jennifer Lawrence circa 2012 with short hair."</p><p>I chuckle nervously. "I really rather wouldn't-"</p><p>"Shh!" She holds out her hand for the hair spray can and I pass it to her. She spritzes carefully. "One last... voilá!"</p><p>She steps back with the curling iron in triumph. "You look great."</p><p>"I look nothing like what you said. And that's what makes this okay." I smile at her and reach for my hoop earrings. "But under no circumstances will I be dancing." </p><p>She groans, unplugging our shared curling iron. "You better. Come on. I've heard this club plays good music."</p><p>"Doubtful." I fasten my hoops and do one last mirror check before going for my shoes. </p><p>"I bet they'll play <em>something</em> that'll make you want to dance. Or will you only dance with <em>Dean?</em> Hey, Alexa, play Sex On Fire-"</p><p>"Shut up!" I sit on the edge of the sofa and slip on my party heels, a find of Betty's. I've never worn them. She found them thrifting. Gold, strappy, and blister-inducing. "You're so mean."</p><p>She fills up a glass with some red wine, smiling. "You never told me about your little date. Did you kiss?"</p><p>"Sorta."</p><p>She gasps, nearly sloshing her drink. "Wait, in the RAIN?! Was that why you were so wet!? Ooooohh my god, you are so getting married in the summer with like flowers and then you'll go to Paris for you bazillionaire honeymoon and you'll go to that bridge thing with the keys and-"</p><p>"Betty, how much have you been drinking?" I tease. "I was sopping because I fell in a puddle and he graciously helped me up. I kissed his cheek. Sue me."</p><p>She giggles. "Here, darling, pour yourself some. We should've invited him. Do you think he can dance?"</p><p>"Maybe. Probably like the waltz or something." I pick out my favorite wine glass, the one with the little chip on the rim, and pour a few sips worth. "I don't exactly think he'd love getting wasted with my friends."</p><p>Betty presses her hand to her chest, over the low scoop of her dress. "Well, excuse you. I'm <em>classy</em> drunk. You, Party Virgin, are going to be a mess. Maybe it is a good thing he ain't coming."</p><p>"<em>Ain't? </em>For a journalist, your grammar is atrocious. Come on. We're going to be late." I hold up my phone with the Uber notification. "Are you bringing your purse?"</p><p>"And getting mugged for it? Nope." She downs her glass and follows me to the door. </p><p>Ram and his lighting-class friend are waiting at a table with a few empty glasses and a pitcher of margaritas. He waves to us and we slide into the booth. Betty lets him pour her a glass of the frosty drink. I hesitantly take one too. I only drink wine with the occasional sip of champagne. This is new and I'm worried it's going to be too strong for me.</p><p>"Vera, just try it," Ram says, laughing at me. "It's fruity. You'll like it."</p><p>"Isn't it tequila-based? That sounds like bad decisions on the horizon." </p><p>He laughs. "It's mostly other stuff. Don't worry, we're Ubering home."</p><p>"Alright, I guess. Bottoms up."</p><p>I hold the cold, sugar-coated glass to my lips and take a very small sip. It burns and is sour and I pucker my lips, glaring at Ram. He laughs.</p><p>"You want something else, then?"</p><p>I nod. "This is nasty. Why does anyone drink this?"</p><p>"Oh, Vera." He pats my shoulder. "How about something a little more lax?"</p><p>Ram stands up and goes to the bar. I reach for one of the chicken nachos on the big plate in the center for us to share. When he returns, he sets a tall and skinny glass in front of me full of something frothy and orange.</p><p>"More citrus?" I groan teasingly.</p><p>He sits back beside me. "Peaches. Try it. <em>This</em> I think you'll like more."</p><p>I raise an eyebrow. Why can't he just be content to let me eat my nachos in peace?</p><p>
  <b>a/n: same girl, same. #relatableronnie</b>
</p><p>"Fine." </p><p>Something tells me he has other intentions besides introducing some drink to me. But he's my friend, right? Right. It'll be fine. You're just over-analyzing, as per usual. I take a sip.</p><p>Fuck, it's delicious. I hate to admit that he's right.</p><p>"Pretty good," I murmur.</p><p>I tell myself I will finish this one and have no more.</p><p>Yeah, that doesn't happen.</p><p>"Alright, Betty-Boop, truth or dare?" Peter, another friend who came to join us, asks. His arm is around her and she's giggling. I press my lips together. The room is swaying. I need some water or something.</p><p>"I'll be right back," I say to Ram, who nods. </p><p>The line to the bathroom is so long. I lean against the wall, tapping my foot. My phone buzzes with a text from Jason Dean. I unlock my phone and read it, a little confused.</p><p>
  <em>I quite enjoyed coffee, Veronica. We should do it again sometime.</em>
</p><p>In my drunken haze, I make a decision that probably was not the wisest. I call him.</p><p>"Dean," he says, perplexed. It is quite late. </p><p>I smile devilishly. "Hey."</p><p>"Veronica?" he asks. A chair squeaks over the phone. "What is going on? Is that music?"</p><p>I shrug, aware that he isn't there to see it. "A bar. I did graduate, you know."</p><p>"Do you have a ride home?"</p><p>"Mhmm. And anyhow, what do you care?"</p><p>He exhales, a sort of strangled noise. "I don't want you driving home drunk, that's why. Why did you call?"</p><p>Oh. Good question. "I dunno. But <em>you're</em> the one who texted <em>me</em>."</p><p>"Yes. I did." He sighs. "Veronica, listen, you're slurring your words. I think you've had enough. Be careful, okay? I'm still at the LeVeque for tomorrow. Call me if you need anything, alright? I can get you a ride if needed."</p><p>I laugh. "Alrighty, fancy pants. I think I can take care of myself. I'm a tough girl, ya know."</p><p>"Right. Drink some water. Get some sleep tonight. Don't be hungover at your graduation. I don't think your parents would approve."</p><p>"Oh, they're not coming." </p><p>"What? That's... sad."</p><p>I shrug again. "I have a clumsy dad who can't play golf. But you'll be there so it's okay. Bubye, <em>Mr. Darcy</em>."</p><p>It's not until I'm sitting back at the table that my drunk mind comprehends exactly what I was implying by saying that. But I shrug and eat more nachos and laugh with my friends, my dizziness progressively getting worse. Worse to the point where I need a breath of fresh air. Ram offers to walk with me. </p><p>"Loud in there, huh?" he says, hands in his pockets. I lean against the brick wall, nodding. The world is spinning and twirling. It feels like I'm on the teacup ride at Disney Land. </p><p>He tilts his head to the side. "You look a little pale, Vera."</p><p>"Yeah. Drank too much." I exhale slowly, letting my eyes close. I don't open them until the surprising feeling of Ram's lips on mine shocks me into the present. </p><p>He runs his fingers through my hair, messing up Betty's handiwork. I gasp and push him off me.</p><p>"What the <em>fuck</em>." I glare at him. "Why did you do that?!"</p><p>Ram reaches for me but I step back. "C'mon, Veronica. You know I like you. You like me. Give me a chance, baby."</p><p>"Yeah right, asshole." I cross my arms. "We broke up for good reasons. And now I see how right I was."</p><p>He grabs my shirt. "Right!? Come on, angel legs. You remember when I used to call you that?"</p><p>I can't help rolling my eyes.</p><p>Now he's angry. He pins me against the wall and kisses me hard. He holds my hands over my head. I wiggle but he's just stronger. </p><p>I manage to bring my knee up into his crotch, causing him to double over. I scramble away from the wall, wiping my mouth.</p><p>"And to think there was a time where I actually thought we could just be friends," I spit. </p><p>He straightens up slowly, wincing. "You'll be back."</p><p>"And the day I am'll be the day I hang myself."</p><p>I walk briskly away from the bar, down the sidewalk, pulling out my phone. Right next door is some store and I stumble in, just trying to get away from the night and music and smell of my bad decisions.</p><p>"Hello," a soft voice says from behind me. I slowly turn. Jesus, it's so bright in here. "May I help you?"</p><p>I cross my arms, shaking my head. He's wearing an apron and wiping up a counter. I look behind him. There's a menu board.</p><p>"Um, where am I?" I ask quietly.</p><p>He raises an eyebrow. "Grater's ice cream. Honey, do you need some water? You look pretty pale."</p><p>"Oh. Um, yes please." </p><p>He pulls out a paper cup from beneath the counter and walks over to a soda fountain. He scoops some ice before filling it up and giving it to me.</p><p>"Do you need a phone call?" he asks.</p><p>I shake my head, gesturing to my cell in my hand. I text Betty where I am as I sip my water. The man keeps cleaning up, sealing the freezer and washing ice cream scoops. I groan when I realize I don't have a ride. I was <em>supposed</em> to Uber home with Ram. But I bet that bastard's plan was to bring me home with him.</p><p>"What's the matter?" the man asks. He's being so kind to me. </p><p>I lean back in my chair, looking at the tall display of candy in the corner. "I don't have a ride."</p><p>"Should I call you an Uber?"</p><p>"No..." I sigh. "No, I think I can find one. But hold that thought."</p><p>I dial Jason's number again.</p><p>"Dean," he says, yawning.</p><p>I finish my water and sigh. "Hi," I whisper.</p><p>A bed creaks, this time. "Veronica?! What's wrong?"</p><p>"Long story. I need a ride home."</p><p>"Alright. I'm on my way. Where are you?"</p><p>I squint at a road sign illuminated by a road sign. "A Grater's on Fifth."</p><p>"An <em>ice cream</em> place?"</p><p>"Long. Fucking. Story. Please just take me home."</p><p>He makes a low noise in the affirmative and then he tells me he'll be right there before hanging up. I tell the helpful Ice Cream Guy that I'm all good before closing my eyes and leaning my head on the table.</p><p>I'm awoken later by a rapping on the glass door. Ice Cream Guy looks up from where he was restocking the candy shelf and stands.</p><p>"Is that your ride?" he asks. "Because we technically closed ten minutes ago."</p><p>I frown. "Sorry. Yeah, that's him."</p><p>"It's alright. I've had a handful of people stumble in." He unlocks the door and lets Jason in. "You know this woman?"</p><p>Jason nods. "Yes, I do. Veronica, can you stand?"</p><p>"Mhmm." I do and walk to him, the world spinning once more. He wraps an arm around me and leads me out the door, trying to be discreet as he sets a twenty on the table by the door. A little bell jingles as he leads me into the cold air.</p><p>"How much have you drank?" he asks.</p><p>I lean my head on his shoulder. "I dunno. A lot. Some peachy thing Ram gave me to get me drunk. Worked. Not as well as he would have hoped, though."</p><p>"He tried to get you drunk?!" </p><p>"Yeah, kissed me too." I practically flop in the backseat. Jason goes around to the front, behind the wheel. "But I dealt with it. If I was sober, I would've kicked his ass."</p><p>He starts the engine and drives off. I watch the streetlights zoom by. There's hardly anybody out once we're away from the bar. I glance at the dashboard clock. It's nearly three in the morning. Guilt overtakes me.</p><p>"You have to give a speech at ten," I whine.</p><p>He shrugs. "You have to graduate."</p><p>"I've fucked up."</p><p>"Maybe a little."</p><p>I lay down in the backseat and fall asleep once again. When I wake, it's to the sound of a different bell over the door. This time for my apartment. I'm in his arms, wrapped in his coat.</p><p>"Do you have your keys?" he asks.</p><p>I blink at him. "Fuck. No. Betty does."</p><p>"Well..."</p><p>"The front desk. I have my ID. They have spare keys."</p><p>He carries me there. A freckled girl about my age with blonde hair types slowly, tiredly. </p><p>"Hi, Marie," I mutter. "My keys are with my friend. Can you unlock my apartment, please?"</p><p>She looks up at me and nods. "Do you have your ID, Veronica?"</p><p>I laugh and Jason sets me down so I can get it out of my pocket. I take off my phone case to take out my ID and leave the spare twenty bucks tucked there. Betty taught me that trick. I show her my ID and she nods.</p><p>"Figured," she teases. "Alright, here. Return it in the morning, please."</p><p>I nod and lead Jason to the stairs. After about three steps, I have to stop.</p><p>"Okay, Veronica, back up you go," he says, smiling at me a little. He picks me up gently, almost like one would with a baby. After two flights, I'm impressed that he hasn't passed out yet. I would've.</p><p>"This one. 213." I point to a door down the hall and he nods, carrying me there. I unlock the door and flick on the lights. He shuts the door with his foot as I toss the keys onto the coffee table. He sets me down on the couch.</p><p>"Are you going to be okay?" He asks as I pass him his coat.</p><p>I curl into a throw pillow. "Yeah. I think. I just need sleep."</p><p>"And Tylenol and food." He walks into the kitchen. "Do you have any bread?"</p><p>"Bread?" I stand up, wobbling over to him. </p><p>"For a sandwich. What do you like on your sandwich?"</p><p>I frown. "I'm not hungry."</p><p>"You need to eat a little something, at least. Drinking on an empty stomach isn't smart."</p><p>"I'll go get that Tylenol."</p><p>"Do you like apples?" He gestures at the bowl of fruit by the coffee maker. </p><p>I huff with irritation. "I can take care of myself, Jason. You've been kind enough. Please just go home. I'll see you later."</p><p>"Alright, fair enough." He touches my cheek for a moment before kissing my forehead. "Good luck tomorrow. Make sure you eat breakfast and drink something like orange juice. Call if you need me."</p><p>I watch him walk out the door before going to the bathroom to find the bottle of Tylenol. I change into sweatpants and a t-shirt, brush out my hair, take the pill, and walk to the kitchen with a heavy heart.</p><p>I cross my arms as I wait for the water to boil in the kettle. We ran out of K-cups for my tea so now I have to do it this way. I frown, waiting for it to start hissing. When it does, I lift it off the burner and pour the water into my waiting mug. </p><p>My eyes linger on the teapot as I dip the tea bag into my mug. I set down the mug and grip the counter. An impulse is building deep in my stomach. I try to squash it, thinking of the app on my phone. Of the little green dude who will be so disappointed in me when I have to update the calendar. </p><p>It has been nearly a goddamn year and now one stupid kiss has me doing it. Two, if you think about it. And then there was Jason. The look in his eyes when I told him to leave. </p><p>I swallow. It's an incredibly intense feeling. Pulling me in. I'm drowning and falling and crashing and burning. I reach out slowly, then pull my hand back. No. Don't you fucking dare. </p><p>I take my mug to my bedroom and slip into the covers, pulling out my phone. I add my entry and scan the list of activities the app suggests. Jesus, this app really is my lifeline. It's kind of pathetic how certain things mean so much. Like my copy of <em>Little Women</em> or this one specific perfume scent or this <em>fucking</em> app. Or my diary. Or tea. But not the pots.</p><p>I end up doing the little yoga routine somehow. By the end of it, I'm so tired. The Tylenol Jason had me take helped and really, I think I've quite nearly worked off most of the drunkness. Maybe I wasn't as intoxicated as I thought. </p><p>"Alexa," I murmur. The speaker on my nightstand glows blue. "Play "Sweater Weather" by the Neighborhood."</p><p>I sit on the floor against my bookshelf and fade into the music because it was her favorite song.</p><p>______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p><p>
  <b>the app i referenced is called Calm Harm and it's a goddess. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>jesus, this was a long-ass chapter. also I've never been drunk so idk what I'm doing haha</b>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. valedictorian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>because i love to write and have a lot of time this Christmas, I'm going to be rewriting Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James. I kinda liked it. parts of it really were just s w o o n. but the bottom line is that it was creepy and abusive. so, with my limited experience and some research, I'm going to try to make this realistic and safe and a fun read. </p><p>also, I'm using heathers characters because it's my favorite movie. and i feel the tone of "creepy and abusive" fits that movie too.... we're killing two birds with one stone! :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake on the floor with a sore neck. I stand up and set my mug in the sink. I touch the kettle triumphantly, smiling at the cold metal. I put it in the sink too. I managed to conquer the day <em>and</em> night. So much happened yesterday it's hard to comprehend.</p><p>Betty's in her bedroom, her eye mask on crooked. I pick up her discarded heels and dress, putting them away. She rolls over in just her bra and I sigh. So much for "classy" drunk.</p><p>"Betty," I hiss, touching her shoulder. The clock on her nightstand says 9:30. I swear if we're late. I did not help her write her valedictorian speech just for her to not show up. What would Jason think of me then?</p><p>"Betty," I say louder. </p><p>She groans and sinks into her flowery duvet. "Fuck you," she giggles.</p><p>"Fuck you, too." I rip the blankets off her and she whines. I pull her to her feet, take her eyemask off, and steer her to the closet. "Get dressed. I'll make breakfast."</p><p>I make my way to the kitchen with a bleak expression and bleary eyes. I pop in a coffee pod and take out some eggs for omelets. Betty stumbles in a few minutes later and flops on the couch.</p><p>"The world is jabbing a knife into my brain," she whimpers.</p><p>I set down my whisk and bend down next to her, touching her forehead. "Honey, you gotta pull through."</p><p>"I drank too much."</p><p>"Don't worry, I did do. Let me get you some Tylenol." I kiss her head and find her the pills before pouring her orange juice and finishing up breakfast. We eat quickly and then I brush through my hair and put on my dress and quickly swoop on some mascara. I never wear too much makeup.</p><p>I drive since Betty is sipping some water and trying to sober up. When we pull into the crowded parking lot, I give Betty a once-over to make sure she looks acceptable. I lead her out of the car to collect our cap and gowns when I'm satisfied with her appearance. I fix her cap and smile, cupping her face.</p><p>"You're cute. Go kick some ass," I tease.</p><p>She nods. "Will do, ma'am." She salutes, smiling.</p><p>I pull her into a hug. "I'm so fucking proud of you. Do you know that?"</p><p>"Yeah. Veronica, you're my everything." She hugs me tighter before leaning away. "Okay, I gotta go get in my spot. Bye- oh! Your man's right over there!"</p><p>I follow her gaze to where Jason's standing, talking to the chancellor. "He's not my man." But I swallow anyway because damn he looks hot in that suit.</p><p>"Blah blah. You're a babe. I'm placing my bets now. Okay bye." She waves and then quickly speed walks away. I sigh and scan the audience for my parents in vain. </p><p>I find my seat between two other girls in the 'S' section. I sit and cross my legs and watch as Jason walks up onto the stage with Betty. It's so loud in here and so crowded. I feel like there isn't enough air for all these people. How could there be? </p><p>At exactly ten, the chancellor walks up to the microphone. I fold my hands in my lap and keep my gaze on Betty and Jason, who are sitting next to each other murmuring. When the chancellor goes to speak, they fall silent.</p><p>"Good morning, graduating class of 2019!" he says, earning him applause.</p><p>I feel bad to say I don't really listen to the rest of the ceremony. Instead, I tune in on the two girls on either side of me's conversation, keeping my eye on Jason.</p><p>"He's pretty hot," one whispers.</p><p>The other nods. "Is he single?"</p><p>I smirk. "I think he's gay."</p><p>"What a shame..." they both sigh.</p><p>Jason meets my eyes from the stage as Betty walks up to her podium. I smile at him and he returns it. The two girls on either side of me gasp. But I know he was smiling at me. </p><p>I hang on Betty's every word, wishing I recorded it. She was <em>brilliant</em>. I clap the loudest, second maybe only to Jason. She earns a standing ovation and I know the second I get home, I'm framing this speech.</p><p>But then comes the other speech. Jason's speech. I don't really know what to expect. He's introduced as a "major benefactor" to the science and engineering department. I suppose I didn't realize that in order for someone to own a construction company, you probably would have to know some of that. I sigh as myself. In my defense, I was up early and drank too late.</p><p>From his entire speech, one line sticks. A line that will stick for what feels like forever.</p><p>"We like to pretend we can control any situation. But that is impossible. The best we can do is control our reaction while the rest of the world falls apart."</p><p>I discreetly type that into my notes app as a reminder to add it to my diary. Because something tells me he has the experience to back that up, just like I do. </p><p>It takes forever for the 'S' section to be called up, nearly an hour. Jason is passing out the diplomas and shaking hands. When he sees me down the line, he grins. </p><p>"Congratulations, Miss Sawyer," he says, shaking my hand with his right and passing me my diploma with his left. </p><p>"Thank you, Mr. Dean." I smile.</p><p>He leans in and whispers, "I want to see you after. Meet me by the stairs of the stage?"</p><p>I nod and then hurry off because I'm holding up the line. I return to my seat and unfurl my diploma. I smile big. A bachelor of English. What I've dreamed of for years. Really, since I first learned to read back in preschool. I hug it to my chest.</p><p>Betty sends us off with a cheerful goodbye and soon I'm tossing up my cap with the rest of my class. I feel unstoppable. I could take on the world and then some. And not only that, Jason Dean is waiting for me.</p><p>As people file out to find their families, I swim upriver to the steps, dodging people until I come to where Jason and Betty are standing and talking out of the way of people. I throw my arms around Betty.</p><p>"Look at this," I squeal, unrolling my diploma once more. "Now I see why people frame them."</p><p>She laughs and hugs me again and I compliment her on her gorgeous speech. My gaze then turns to Jason. I throw my arms around him too. He rests his chin on my shoulder, humming lightly.</p><p>"I'm proud of you," he says. "You look quite lovely in your graduation garb."</p><p>I smile and kiss his cheek. "Your speech was amazing."</p><p>"My brother helped me a little. I'm not the best with words."</p><p>"Brother?"</p><p>Jason nods. "Duke. Half-brother, technically. He came to watch. I sent him to the car so we wouldn't be stuck in traffic forever."</p><p>"Oh." I raise my eyebrows. "Is that what you wanted me to come meet you for?"</p><p>"Mostly." He looks over at the doors. "We've invited you two to lunch on us. Have any restaurants in mind?"</p><p>I take his hand. "Yes. Betty, Figlio's?"</p><p>"Oh my god, yes!" She takes Jason's other hand. "Come on, they have great pizza."</p><p>He follows us to the door. A Mercedes-Benz is waiting near the door, engine humming. Jason drops Betty's hand but keeps mine.</p><p>"How appalled would you be if you drove with me?" he asks, whispering in my ear.</p><p>I smirk. "Oh, very."</p><p>He chuckles and knocks on the passenger side window. It rolls down. "Out, man. You're riding with Betty." He looks over his shoulder. "That alright with you, Miss Finn?"</p><p>She shrugs. "Sure. I can drive. Vera, keys."</p><p>I hand them to her. A tall man with dark hair and a cream sweater steps out, pulling his sunglasses down. He looks from me to Betty. Jason points him in Betty's direction.</p><p>"Oh, hello, Miss Finn." His voice is very prim. Polite. "I like your nails."</p><p>She blushes, looking down at her purple painted fingernails. "Thanks. Um, the car is this way."</p><p>They walk to our car and Jason and I are left alone. He opens the passenger door for me and I slide in. When he's behind the wheel, I turn to him and laugh.</p><p>"Did you see the look in their eyes?" I clutch my chest playfully. "Wa-zing! I give it a week and they're dating."</p><p>He rolls his eyes, smiling. "I give it two days."</p><p>"So your brother's a romantic, too?"</p><p>"Ridiculously. Betty?"</p><p>"Painfully."</p><p>We laugh and he slips on sunglasses as we drive out of the parking lot. I type in the address into the GPS and lean back in the seat. This is the <em>nicest</em> car I have ever seen in my whole life. The interior is grey and clean and it smells new. I don't know if it is or if it's some sort of rich-person power.</p><p>"Radio?" he asks.</p><p>I shake my head. "Does this have Bluetooth? Wait. Don't be stupid, Ronnie. Of course it does."</p><p>"Ronnie?"</p><p>"An old nickname." I connect my phone to the car and open Spotify. I shuffle my playlist and one of my favorite songs, "Mariposa" by the Peach Tree Rascals starts up. </p><p>"Well, Ronnie, I have a proposal for you." </p><p>I smirk. "Goodness, slow down, Darcy. Take it one step at a time."</p><p>"Not that kind of proposal, stupid." He reaches over and brings my hand to his lips. "I don't think Miss Austen would approve of my sort of proposal."</p><p>
  <em>"Ooh." </em>
</p><p>"I am going back to Chicago tonight. Would you like to come with me?"</p><p>"Come with you? Why? I'm moving in like a week."</p><p>He keeps my hand in his, tracing circles with his thumb. "There's something I want to discuss with you and I think it will be hard for me to keep waiting."</p><p>"We're alone now. Can't we discuss it here?"</p><p>"This will be a... <em>long</em> discussion." </p><p>I sigh and raise an eyebrow. "If you want to have sex with me, you can just ask. It isn't a crime."</p><p>"Consider it." He kisses my hand again. </p><p>I bite my lip. "Maybe. How am I supposed to get there? To arrive at a decent hour, I'd have to leave soon."</p><p>"I can make arrangements, Ronnie."</p><p>We drive the rest of the way in silence. Somehow, Betty and Duke beat us. They're sitting at a table, laughing. Duke's arm is around Betty. I slide into the booth. Jason's arm goes around me, too, but under the table. </p><p>Lunch is lovely but I can't concentrate. I turn over my options. What kind of discussion could he possibly want to have? Even if he wanted sex, which would make the most sense, he doesn't need to have a whole business-like meeting for that.</p><p>In the end, I agree. Jason says he'll pick me up at six. <em>Six!</em> We'll be there near midnight!</p><p>But that turns out to not be the case. He drives me to a different tall building, not the one he's staying in, and leads me through the doors. In the elevator, he holds my hand. When the doors open, the assaulting feeling of cold wind and the sight of a helicopter wracks me. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. portrait of a lady</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>because i love to write and have a lot of time this Christmas, I'm going to be rewriting Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James. I kinda liked it. parts of it really were just s w o o n. but the bottom line is that it was creepy and abusive. so, with my limited experience and some research, I'm going to try to make this realistic and safe and a fun read. </p><p>also, I'm using heathers characters because it's my favorite movie. and i feel the tone of "creepy and abusive" fits that movie too.... we're killing two birds with one stone! :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>slight NSFW</b>
</p><hr/><p>I have to yell over the wind to tell him of my surprise. He laughs and holds me close and we walk to the helicopter. It's grey and has his last name painted on it, much like the side of his skyscraper of an office building.</p><p>"Are you serious?" I shout.</p><p>He opens the door for me. "Quite. Climb in."</p><p>Jason lifts me up into the seat and steps on the running board. He buckles each of the four straps into a center buckle and tightens it. I squirm a little.</p><p>"Too tight?" he asks.</p><p>"Yeah. A bit."</p><p>He smirks as he loosens it. "Hope you're not afraid of heights."</p><p>"Well, I wouldn't know. I've never been this high."</p><p>"Not even a plane?"</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>He makes a sort of 'huh' noise before kissing my cheek and shutting the door behind him. He talks to some different secret-service-looking dude by the elevator before climbing in beside me and handing me a pair of headphones. I slip them on and he does the same with his pair.</p><p>"Wait, <em>you're</em> flying this thing?!" I exclaim. I'm tempted to reach for the buckle and climb out. He rests his hand on my thigh, keeping me in place.</p><p>"I've been a licensed helicopter pilot for two years. I know what I'm doing." He squeezes my leg. "Are you comfy? It's an hour ride."</p><p>I nod. My stomach is tight from his squeeze. I wonder if that's what he wants me for tonight. More of that... Oh, I hope so. </p><p>The dashboard in front of us alights with glowing buttons and switches and things. My eyes widen. Jason scolds me playfully not to touch anything. I turn my gaze to the window, at the stars. It's like I'm wrapped in black velvet. In a little pod with this witty, handsome, rich-as-Solomon man.</p><p>Is he as good a lover, too?</p><p>"CMH, this is Charlie Tango, cleared for takeoff..."</p><p>I hear his voice through the headphones, sounding disembodied and weird. The rest of his talk with someone at an air control tower melts into nonsense I don't understand. A few moments later, the blades start spinning with a roaring volume. </p><p>"Woah," I breathe as we slowly lift into the air. I reach over and grab Jason's knee. My stomach flip flops. He inhales sharply.</p><p>"Move your hand," he hisses. "Down. Please."</p><p>"Down?" It's then I realize I didn't exactly go for the knee. More like mid-thigh. "Oops. Sorry."</p><p>He laughs a little. "It's alright. I just can't be distracted. Not yet."</p><p>"Yet?" I slowly move my hand down to his knee, grinning. </p><p>I spend the remainder of the flight with my hand there as I stare out at the stars, forehead on the cold glass of the window. It seems like a different world. Just the moon, the stars, Jason, and me. I feel like I'm really a part of the world. Like a key has been unlocked, freeing me.</p><p>If Dante wrote about the different levels of hell, I have reached a new level of heaven. The ring of sweet and funny guys who make you feel things you never thought you could.</p><p>"Alright," he says, his voice coming through the headphones, "we're landing soon."</p><p>I pout. "Already? I could do this for hours."</p><p>"It is more fun at night, isn't it?"</p><p>"I would assume." I press my lips together. The way the moonlight illuminates his face makes him seem like a fairytale. "I like night. Especially rainy ones. But I don't like driving in it."</p><p>He nods. "Neither do I."</p><p>"So, where do you live, exactly? Do you have like... a house?"</p><p>"Sorta."</p><p>Jason flips a switch on the dashboard and we sink in the air. It feels like all my organs stayed at the level we were at. I squeal and he laughs, which makes me laugh too. We slowly descend lower and lower until the helicopter gently kisses the pad on top of some crazy tall building. I swallow.</p><p>"Holy fuck," I breathe.</p><p>Jason looks at me. "All good?"</p><p>"Incredibly."</p><p>He helps me off and leads me to a different elevator. Instead of having him hold my hand, I curl into his chest. He wraps both arms around me. I inhale slowly. He smells like how I imagine all those fancy perfume actors do. But different. It doesn't seem artificial. He is wearing a cologne of some sort, something bittersweet and clean. But there's also just a warm sugary goodness about him. A scent that could never be bottled.</p><p>Bud the security dude meets us at the bottom. We're in a parking garage full of fancy cars. I hug Jason tighter. He kisses the top of my head. Bud nods to me before looking at his... boss?</p><p>"You have a girl, sir," he states quizically.</p><p>I snicker. Jason nods and peels me off him, settling his hand in mine. "You remember Miss Veronica Sawyer, don't you?"</p><p>"Oh, yes. The one who nearly ruined the leather seats."</p><p>I frown. "I... I'm so sorry-"</p><p>"I'm kidding, ma'am. It's lovely to meet you again." He smiles. "Now, sir, I believe Miss Walker has dinner about ready."</p><p>"Miss...?" I raise an eyebrow at Jason.</p><p>"My housekeeper." He tugs me to a different elevator, a nicer one. Gilded and golden with a reflective floor. Reflective floor?! This is... strange. Is it intentional? A way for any skirt-wearing-woman to fall prey? I squeeze my legs together a little tighter.</p><p>Jason notices and laughs as Bud types in some sort of code into a keypad where the floor buttons should be. He pushes me into the corner and stands in front of me discreetly, kissing the tip of my nose. </p><p>Woah. Holy fuck. He's so close. Arms on either side of the railing, on either side of me. I squeeze my thighs together even more. Goddamn it, I wish he'd kiss me. But his James Bond guy's here!</p><p>"Unfortunate design flaw, I know," he murmurs. "I'll make sure you can be modest."</p><p>He leans against the wall next to me, angled in a sort of way to cover up any reflection I would have. I swallow. My mouth has gone dry. My heart is fluttering out of rhythm. I bite the inside of my cheek. This couldn't be a longer elevator ride. </p><p>When we emerge, Bud disappears somewhere and Jason leads me in. I'm hesitant to walk, scared my heels will scruff the floor. It's like I've teleported to Versailles or the White House or Buckingham Palace or <em>something</em>. This is some Richie-Rich type shit.</p><p>The walls are almost, if not completely glass. I can see the skyline from every angle. There's a marble staircase to the right, a hallway behind it. A state-of-the-art kitchen off to the left with the smell of something delicious. Jason pulls me in and I slip off my shoes quickly, setting them by the elevator. I patter over to the window in just my pantyhose and look out. There's a little bit of a lip, making it seem for a moment I'm standing on air. </p><p>"Oh, welcome home, Mr. Dean," a gentle and genial voice says as a middle-aged woman practically glides into the room, her graying blonde hair pulled back. "Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes. Would you like any wine, sir?"</p><p>"Oh, um, no thank you. Not tonight." He walks over to me. "Hey, what do you want to drink with dinner, Ronnie?"</p><p>I blush at the nickname. Oh my. A caramel-sweet sort of sensation melts over me. "Do you have any, uh, iced tea?"</p><p>"Peach, raspberry, or plain?"</p><p>"Oh. Um, raspberry sounds good."</p><p>He goes off into the kitchen and I walk into another spacious room. This place just flows. There are hardly any walls at all. Just open space. The floors in here are covered with a white rug, little imprints where a glass coffee table rests. Two sofas are angled around it, along with one armchair beside a table with a lamp. On the table rests a book, <em>Common Stocks and Uncommon Profits</em>.</p><p>Above a roaring fireplace is a picture. It towers high in its golden frame. I think it's of a chapel. Maybe an opera house in Europe somewhere. Either way, it's gorgeous. I turn around once in the room, gulping. How could one person have <em>this much?!</em></p><p>"That," Jason says, "is the Palais Garnier. It's in Paris. My mother picked out that painting years ago. My father let me have it."</p><p>He holds out a bottle of some high-dollar tea. I unscrew the lid, cautious to take a sip in this lavish room. "Does she like art?"</p><p>"Incredibly. She was quite the collector. Loved music too. Hence the painting of a theater." He leads me into the kitchen with his hand on the small of my back. </p><p>The woman who I assume is Miss Walker is setting two plates on a bar, already set with two place settings. Even the cutlery looks like it's worth more than my education. Jason pulls out a stool for me and I sit. After making sure we're set, she leaves.</p><p>"Wow," I blurt. "Is this salmon?"</p><p>"With lemon." He sits too and starts to cut his food carefully. "Do you not like it?"</p><p>"Oh, it's fine. I've just only had salmon at my cousin's wedding..." I slice off a piece of the pink fish and squint at it before taking a bite. Holy crap is it delicious. "This is <em>amazing</em>."</p><p>"Miss Walker is one of the best cooks I've ever met."</p><p>Why are we talking about this? I know I came here for a reason. We do enough small talk. But I don't want to be too forward or rude or anything because as much as it <em>feels</em> like we're best friends, I hardly know him.</p><p>He pokes at his food for a moment before sighing. "Alright. Best get it over with."</p><p>Oh my God. It's like he read my mind.</p><p>Jason stands up and I watch him leave, confused. He returns a few minutes later with a sheet of paper. I swallow. What the hell is this?</p><p>"Can you promise me that you won't tell a soul what I'm about to tell you?" he asks.</p><p>I furrow my brows. "Why would I? Of course. I wouldn't tell anyone."</p><p>"Thank you." He plays the sheet of paper on the counter but I can't read anything it says. Jason taps his fingers on the granite. "Do you know what BDSM is?"</p><p>What the actual fuck, man?</p><p>
  <b>a/n: lol. i just can't. I'm amusing myself. I'm writing this purely to entertain myself. </b>
</p><p>My head goes a-spinning and I'm caught in some sort of whirlwind of what the hell. I press my tempeled index fingers to my lips and close my eyes.</p><p>"Back up. You're trying to do <em>what?"</em></p><p>He reaches for his water and takes a nervous sip. "Just answer the question, Veronica. Do you know what it is?"</p><p>"Yeah. I think. I don't know. I really don't know enough about it to have an opinion, I guess... But it's like the handcuffs and flogger stuff, right?"</p><p>"Partially." He pulls out a stool and sits, his food forgotten. He still won't let me see the sheet of paper. "It's an acronym. Bondage, discipline, dominance, submission, sadism, masochism."</p><p>"WHAT?" I press my hands to the countertop. I think I might throw up. "<em>Masochism?!"</em></p><p>"Oh dear," Jason breathes. "Veronica, calm down."</p><p>"No, I'm not gonna fucking <em>calm down!"</em> I think of the teapot last night. Of all the nights. This isn't fair. The universe is tricking me. The earth I felt a part of has now torn me apart.</p><p>He reaches out and touches my hand. I'm tempted to pull away. "Don't focus on that. If it's not what you're into, you can ignore that part."</p><p>"How am I supposed to know what I'm into?"</p><p>"Have you ever done anything like this?"</p><p>I laugh. "No! Hello no! I'm not crazy-"</p><p>"But I am?"</p><p>"Oh." I grit my teeth. Oops. "Jason, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."</p><p>He nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I figured." He takes another sip of his water. "Look, I'm not asking you to dive in head-first into anything extreme. What I do is more.... calm. I'm a dominant."</p><p>"What's that supposed to mean?"</p><p>"Well... it's a sort of power play, I guess. In a sexual scenario, I would be in a place of control. Leaving you to be the over half of the equation, a sub."</p><p>I give him a sour look. "So you want me to be your sex slave?"</p><p>"No. That's not the same thing at all. A master/slave dynamic is a different thing. Being a submissive is more like just being a bottom... kinda. It's not like I can bend your will and force you to do anything. Actually, it's quite the opposite."</p><p>"You're not making any sense."</p><p>"Yeah, I know. I'm so bad at explaining things." He purses his lips before locking his bottom one in his teeth. I squeeze his hand. "Am I scaring you?"</p><p>"No. I don't think you would hurt me."</p><p>He nods. "Right. Good. I never would. This is all about trust and communication and pleasure. Not pain and power. I promise. I've been doing this for years. And you're a strong, brilliant woman, Veronica. A perfect candidate. I really think this might be something you would like."</p><p>"That seems like an oxymoron."</p><p>"But it isn't. Being a submissive doesn't mean your weak."</p><p>I look at him for a long moment and sigh. "What's with the paper?"</p><p>"Oh... here." He hands it to me. "There's going to be some discussion needed, but basically it's a list of all the things I'm willing to do. In the box beside each item, rate on a scale of one to five your interest in the activity. It's a simple way for me to get a sense of what you like and don't."</p><p>I scan the list, my stomach getting tighter and tighter as I do. "How am I supposed to know if I'm into this?"</p><p>"Well, if you've never done it, put either W-T for want to try or just no if you would never ever do it. </p><p>"Do you have a pen?"</p><p>He pulls one out of his blazer pocket. I go to work. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. night light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>i'm uploading this from wattpad and it turns out i skipped a damn chapter. oops. here ya go. it's literally one of the most important chapters too lol</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>NSFW big time hehe</b>
</p><p>Right off the bat from the moment I start reading the sheet, I'm uncomfortable and confused. But I will do this. If not for him then for myself. Jason eats his salmon as I scribble.</p><p>
  <em>anal sex (receiving)- 1<br/>
biting- 3<br/>
blindfolds (various)- 2<br/>
bondage (light)- 2<br/>
bondage (heavy)- 1<br/>
bondage with: no thanks<br/>
</em>
  <em>cuffs (leather)- 1<br/>
</em>
  <em>cuffs (metal)- no<br/>
rope- 2<br/>
spreader bar- ???<br/>
tape- no<br/>
tied to furniture- 1<br/>
bound in front- 2<br/>
bound in back- 1<br/>
bound by ankles- 3<br/>
bound by wrists- 2<br/>
</em>
  <em>clitoral massage- 4 WT<br/>
</em>
  <em>cunnilingus- 4 WT<br/>
</em>
  <em>fellatio- 3  (I'm really bad)<br/>
flogging- 1<br/>
</em>
  <em>food play- ???<br/>
</em>
  <em>gagging- no!<br/>
</em>
  <em>hair pulling- 4<br/>
</em>
  <em>hand jobs (giving)- 4 <br/>
</em>
  <em>hand jobs (receiving)- 4 WT<br/>
</em>
  <em>ice (temp play)- 2 <br/>
</em>
  <em>lingerie- 3<br/>
</em>
  <em>massage (receiving)-  3 <br/>
</em>
  <em>mutual masturbation- 3 WT<br/>
</em>
  <em>nipple clamps- no<br/>
</em>
  <em>orgasm denial/control- ???<br/>
</em>
  <em>pain tolerance- 5 (I'm good about it. doesn't mean i want it)<br/>
</em>
  <em>scratching- 3<br/>
</em>
  <em>sex toys:<br/>
</em>
  <em>dildos-  4<br/>
</em>
  <em>vibrators- 4<br/>
</em>
  <em>anal plugs- 1<br/>
</em>
  <em>g-spot vibrator/stimulator- 4<br/>
</em>
  <em>spanking (for pleasure)- 2<br/>
</em>
  <em>spanking (as punishment)- no<br/>
</em>
  <em>suspension- ???<br/>
</em>
  <em>teasing- 3<br/>
</em>
  <em>tickling- 4<br/>
touching or kissing: WT<br/>
back/shoulders- 4<br/>
breasts- 4<br/>
legs and arms- 4 (arms) no (legs)<br/>
hands- 5<br/>
feet- 2 <br/>
genitals- 3<br/>
stomach- 3<br/>
neck- 4<br/>
head- 5<br/>
</em>
  <em>wax play- ???<br/>
</em>
  <em>vaginal sex- 5 WT</em>
</p><p>When I cap my pen, he looks at me expectantly. "May I see?" he asks.</p><p>I shrug. "Why not?"</p><p>He goes down the list slowly, his eyebrows raising slowly. "You were pretty reserved."</p><p>"I'm nervous."</p><p>"Touché. You don't like having your legs touched?"</p><p>"No. Strong no. Don't you dare." </p><p>He looks at me funny. "Insecure? Because, Veronica, let me tell you, you're really pretty."</p><p>"Sure. We can go with insecurity."</p><p>He gives me a "whatever" sort of gesture before turning back to the page. When he surfaces, it's with a rather scared look.</p><p>"Have you done <em>anything?" </em>he says exasperatedly.</p><p>I swallow my bite of salmon. "Um... blow jobs?"</p><p>"So you've never had <em>actual</em> sex?"</p><p>I shake my head. "Is there some sort of problem in that?"</p><p>"No, it's just... making this harder." He stands up and goes over to a shelf near the fridge. He presses on the cabinet and it opens. He removes a small glass and then goes a different cabinet to fill his glass with brandy. He takes a sip. </p><p>"I feel like you're angry with me."</p><p>"I'm not, Ronnie." He leans against the counter, huffing. "I'm more frustrated with myself. And maybe a little scared."</p><p>"Why the hell would you be scared? I'm not a saintly little virgin to be treated like a delicate flower. I've just never met anyone I wanted to go that far with."</p><p>He takes another sip. "What if we... tried it. So you would know what it's like."</p><p>"With your spreader bars and butt plugs, no thank you!" I frown at him.</p><p>Jason sets his empty glass down. "Normally. No add-ons or anything."</p><p>"Would you wear a condom?"</p><p>"Of course." He takes his and my empty plates to the sink. </p><p>I stand up. "Alright. I guess."</p><p>"You <em>guess</em>? Veronica, I'm not trying to force you-"</p><p>"No, no, I wanted this from the beginning. When you invited me over, I assumed it would end in sex and I'm okay with that. I <em>want</em> to have sex with you, Jason. I'm just not so sure about all the... other stuff."</p><p>He nods. "That's fair enough. Are you still hungry?"</p><p>"Not really."</p><p>"Alright. Come on." He takes my hand and leads me to the big marble staircase. Before I can stop him, he scoops me up in his arms. Up the stairs, down the hall, through a door. "Lights on or off?"</p><p>"Off." I slide out of his arms and sit on the edge of the bed to peel off my pantyhose. </p><p>He stops me and kneels in front of me. "Let me. Since the lights are out, can I kiss your legs?"</p><p>"Fine." I let him lift one leg and kiss my ankle. He peels it down slowly and my body starts to whir to life. I giggle when he kisses my toes.</p><p>Jason pulls off my other stocking before standing me up. He turns me around and holds my hair up, kissing the back of my neck gently. Oh my goodness. Such a simple touch and I'm wanting. His fingers go to the zipper of my dress and he slowly pulls it down. I let it fall.</p><p>"You have a lovely body," he whispers, kissing my shoulders. "Lie down on your stomach."</p><p>I crawl into his big bed and do as he says, laying my head on a pillow. He traces his fingers down my back for a moment. I close my eyes and smile, sighing. This is quite nice, I have to admit.</p><p>"I'll be right back. Don't move," he says before ducking out of the room. I sit up. He really just left me in my bra and panties. </p><p>I inspect my legs while he's gone. It's been two days since I shaved. Fuck. I'm a little prickly. Hopefully he won't notice. </p><p>Jason returns and I quickly lay back down. He sets a box and bottle on his nightstand before stripping to his boxers. I turn and watch him. </p><p>"What's the bottle?" I ask quietly.</p><p>He slips off his shirt. My heart lurches. He must work out or something because this man has <em>abs. </em>He's so trimmed and polished. I swallow and press my thighs together. </p><p>"Lube. Trust me, it'll make this a lot easier." He steps out of his pants and I ache with want now.</p><p>He tugs the blankets from under me before climbing into bed with me. He lies beside me and kind of makes a cozy nest of his pillows and duvet. I trace my fingers down his chest slowly. He kisses my forehead. </p><p>"Okay, on your stomach." He rolls over to straddle me. I lay my head on my arms and hum with pleasure. Surprisingly, I'm not really that shy about him seeing me naked. It's kinda like we've been doing this for ages. "Can I take off your bra?"</p><p>I laugh. "If you don't mind seeing the boobs of a ten-year-old boy."</p><p>"Shh." He undoes the clasp expertly and we maneuver to get it off. "Self-deprecating jokes stop now."</p><p>"Is that a <em>rule</em>?" I tease.</p><p>He slaps my ass and I gasp in surprise. "Yes. How was that? Too hard?"</p><p>"No," I whisper. I wasn't expecting that. But it was kind of nice... </p><p>Jason starts to kiss my shoulders. He strokes my back, sending little shoots of warmth through me. I curl my toes. I start to feel his erection the closer he leans in. It's a crazy thought that someone like him -who wants all the bells and whistles of a submissive girl in ropes and chains-  still wants me. Plain and scared.</p><p>"Panties?" he implores. I nod.</p><p>He slips them off me carefully and parts my legs. He gives me one soft kiss to my ass before slapping me again and flipping me over. I laugh. I must admit, I like the game. He grabs my wrists and holds them above my head.</p><p>"Grab the headboard and don't let go, okay?" he says. "We'll see how you do with this."</p><p>I tut as I grab the wood. He lies on his side by me and presses a little kiss to my jaw, his hand floating down my stomach. He comes back up and goes across my breasts with a feather-light warmth. It kind of tickles. I turn my head and look at him. He's staring at my body, watching his hand explore. </p><p>My toes curl more intensely as his fingers brush the curls between my legs. Now <em>that</em> tickles. I laugh and he smiles. I part my legs as he reaches for the lube. He squirts some onto his fingers before gently spreading it across my skin. It's cold and I close my eyes, moaning. </p><p>It's a weird feeling. All of me is tinkling for more touch. Just more, more, more! I reach and grab his hand before he starts to rub my clitoris. He looks up at me.</p><p>"I'm sensitive. Be careful," I say.</p><p>He nods and kisses my hand before returning it to the headboard. His fingers brush me ever so lightly and I turn to cover my mouth with my arm. I whine a little when he presses. He then starts to roll it under his thumb and I tilt my head in confusion. It's nice but not. Strange and foreign while being completely enamoring. </p><p>"Is this okay?" he asks.</p><p>I nod. "But can I please move my hands? Do I get like a get out of jail free card because it's my first time?"</p><p>"Sure, sure." He laughs and shifts his weight. He starts to kiss my breasts while still rubbing and massaging me. "Do you want to orgasm this way?"</p><p>"Wait, what? What do you mean?"</p><p>He gives me an amused look. "Do you masturbate, Ronnie?"</p><p>"I don't know, sometimes?" I laugh with him. </p><p>Jason starts to press a little harder and I groan softly.  He trails his fingers down, touching a new area with a new sensation. "Sex isn't cookie-cutter. Especially for women. It depends on how much you've explored to determine what kind of feeling's your favorite."</p><p>I grip the sheets when his fingers touch my vagina. He smirks. Somehow I feel the sensation everywhere. I cover my mouth with my hands. This lube really is helping. I feel sort of twitchy, too. This is so weird.</p><p>"One finger, okay?" he says softly, easing his finger inside me. I moan loudly into my hands. I want to press my legs together but he keeps them open. </p><p>Jason moves his hand a little, his thumb massaging as his middle finger does the same internally. I whine and claw at the sheets. Holy <em>fuck</em>. He kisses my hip.</p><p>"Do you think you're ready or do you want more?"</p><p>Well, of course I want more. But I also want to keep going. Press on, as my mother would say. I nod and he slides out of his boxers and reaches for a condom. I watch him slide it on and bite the inside of my cheek. It's been so long since I've done something sexual like this that I nearly forgot the pure strangeness of the dick. Oh, yes, a sentence Betty has uttered many times. </p><p>He spreads my legs more and presses himself against me, taking both my hands. I wrap my legs around him and take a deep breath. He slips in slowly, inch by inch. Fractionally. It pinches a little, but doesn't hurt as much as I thought. I shift my hips to meet him and he presses his forehead against mine. </p><p>Jesus Christ, he's inside me.</p><p>"Does that feel okay?" he asks.</p><p>"Yeah. Good, actually. But it also hurts. I don't really know. I'm confused."</p><p>He drops both my hands to rest on his elbows, looking down at me. I trace my fingers up and down his back as he just kind of sits there. Is this it? It can't be. I've seen enough in movies and heard enough from Betty to know that there must be more.</p><p>"Jason?" I prod.</p><p>It's like he just now snaps back into reality. "Sorry. Yeah, it's weird, I know. I felt weird my first time, too, and it's a lot easier adaption for me."</p><p>I tuck my face into his shoulder as he slowly rocks his hips. Wow. I tighten my legs' hold on him. It's crazy to think my body's capable of this. Makes me love it a little bit more. I kiss his neck as he moves, whimpering.</p><p>Jason moans as he starts to move faster. It doesn't even hurt anymore. Just initially. But something tells me I'll be sore later. I grip his neck with one hand, moaning too. </p><p>"Veronica," he hisses. "Oh, baby, yes."</p><p>I giggle and nibble at his ear, earning me more moans. The strange feeling in my stomach is getting stronger. I claw at his back. He seems not to mind. I cry out.</p><p>"Jason, I-" I hug him to me even tighter. He does the same to me. "I think I might..."</p><p>"Go ahead." He smiles at me and kisses my forehead. "I'm just about there too."</p><p>My stomach feels like it's eating itself. Is it supposed to feel this way? I don't know if it's good, necessarily. But it isn't bad. It's stronger and stronger and stronger and then- release.</p><p>"Oh my god," I groan into his shoulder. He tangles his fingers in my hair and starts kissing my face all over, making me giggle. </p><p>"I'm impressed," he says, exhausted, "that you managed to finish first time."</p><p>I titter and run my fingers through his hair. "Is that not normal?"</p><p>"I wouldn't know. But I doubt it." He kisses my nose. "Did that hurt?"</p><p>"Not really. It kinda pinched at first but then it was okay. I mean, I think I had some leverage because I have technically used sex toys on my own before and that shit <em>hurt</em>."</p><p>He smiles just a little with some semblance of relief. "Good. I was worried I hurt you. I tried to be as gentle as I could."</p><p>"You were." I tuck my head into his chest when he rolls off me. He pushes me away and sits up.</p><p>"On second, baby, then we can cuddle. I need to get rid of this condom and you need to go to the bathroom."</p><p>"Bathroom?" I sit up too and the soreness begins. Slightly. Just a little ache when I move. </p><p>"Trust me." He leads me to a bathroom, throwing the used condom in a trash can. "I'll be right back. I'm getting your graduation present."</p><p>"Graduation present?" I turn to face him in the bathroom. "Jason, you really didn't have to."</p><p>He cups my face and kisses my forehead. "I wanted to. I think you'll like it."</p><p>Jason walks away and I hurry to the off-to-the-side room with the toilet. I do kinda have to go to the bathroom, anyway. When I'm washing my hands, I study my reflection. Do I look different? Maybe. I feel different. But not really. Only buzzing and humming and glowing. I feel known.</p><p>The bathroom is clean, swept, glass, gold, and white marble. There's a big bathtub on those little feet and a stack of fluffy towels beside it, rolled tightly. There's a large glass shower with <em>three</em> showerheads, one of them being detachable. Oh, the wonders of a detachable showerhead. I giggle to myself.</p><p>He returns with a button-up, a pair of his boxers, and a wrapped box. "Come on. I have clothes for you if you don't want to sleep naked. Do you want anything to drink?"</p><p>"I'm fine. Is that one of your shirts?" I ask.</p><p>"Yep. I think it'll fit well enough."</p><p>I take the clothes from him and follow him back into his bedroom. I button up the shirt and pull on the boxers before crawling into the blankets. Jason sits beside me in loose-fitting pajama pants, pulling me into his lap.</p><p>I tear the corner on the wrapping paper and delicately rip off the rest. I smile, nuzzling into him and kissing his Adam's apple. In my hands is an e-reader in a blue case with white roses. He falls backward and starts to tickle me.</p><p>I shriek with laughter. "Jason!"</p><p>"You said you liked tickles." He kisses my face too. I wiggle free and hold the e-reader to my chest.</p><p>"Thank you," I say, still smiling big.</p><p>He rests his chin on my thigh, making a silly face. "You're very welcome. Now all your books are in one place."</p><p>"You're sweet." I ruffle his hair.</p><p>"I try." </p><p>I set the e-reader on the nightstand and lay down beside him. I loop one leg over him and boop the tip of his nose with mine. He turns his head away when I try to kiss his lips.</p><p>"Hey," I say. "What gives? You... woah. You haven't kissed me yet. Why? Something wrong? Cold sore, baby?"</p><p>He gives me an amused exhale as he shakes his head. "I don't really... I don't know. It's just a thing of mine. I don't like being kissed."</p><p>"You don't like how it feels?"</p><p>"I don't like what it implies." He looks at me for a while, frowning. "I'm sorry. It's just too intimate."</p><p>I touch his cheek. "How Vivian Ward of you. Nothing can be more intimate than what we just did, you know."</p><p>"It's easier to have casual sex than casual kisses."</p><p>"So we just had 'casual sex'? That's all?"</p><p>He pulls me in close. "No. I consider you a friend. You're hilarious company and I love spending time with you. Friends can play around."</p><p>I pull the comforter around us and sigh. "Alright. I guess."</p><p>I kiss his shoulder and fall asleep wishing that somehow we could be more than friends, whips and chains aside. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. furniture polish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>NSFW</b>
</p><p>
  <b>jesus, i wish FSoG was written with this sort of a... decency. i think it had so much potential. it really did. oh well. now i get to do it *sigh* </b>
</p><p>
  <b>i guess you can say I'm on aftercare duty.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I'm sorry. if you don't get that joke, you will eventually. </b>
</p><hr/><p>When I wake in the morning, Jason is gazing at me as he trails his fingers down my back. I smile and wrap my leg around him. He rolls onto his back, taking me with him, and lifts me up. I hang over him, laughing.</p><p>"You're strong," I murmur sleepily.</p><p>"You could be my morning workout." He lowers his arms so I'm closer to his chest before lifting me upward again. He does this a few times and I strain to keep myself stiff. "Yep. I could benchpress you, babydoll."</p><p>I snicker and lean down and peck his lips. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry. I forgot. Sorry. My bad."</p><p>"It's okay," he says. He sets me down on his chest and brushes his nose against mine. "How about Eskimo kisses?"</p><p>I scrunch up my nose and tangle my fingers in his hair. He grabs my hips and then I'm being tickled again. I squeal and squirm and laugh with him. He rolls around with me and it's a war, kissing places and tickling each other.</p><p>"We're like children," I say when we come up for air, laying starstruck on the bed. </p><p>He taps my nose. "Nothing wrong with some play."</p><p>I roll my eyes and hit him with a pillow. He takes it from me and hits me with it. I curl into his warm arms as a shield put he peels me out and I yelp. Jason pins me to the bed with his hips and starts to tickle me again.</p><p>"Okay, okay, you win!" I shriek. "I tap out!"</p><p>He smirks and kisses my forehead. "How are you feeling?"</p><p>"Extraordinary." I press my hand to his warm chest. He loops his fingers through mine. "A little bit sore, though. But not terribly."</p><p>Jason tugs me to him and we nearly roll off one corner of the bed. "And what are your thoughts on last night?"</p><p>"Yesterday in its entirety was one of the best days of my whole life. Graduated and got to bed a billionaire. Not many can say that."</p><p>He laughs. "Alright, silly, come on. I want to show you something before breakfast."</p><p>"Ooh, okay." I let him scoop me up out of bed. He ends up giving me a piggy-back-ride to this mystery destination. I kiss his neck while he carries me. Jesus, I feel like I'm in one of my beloved YA novels. </p><p>Jason sets me down after leading me down that secret little hallway behind the staircase. He pulls out a key from his pocket. When did he grab that? </p><p>"Alright," he says, giving me a look. "This might be a little bit overwhelming. But I just think I should show you this so you get a sense of what you're dealing with."</p><p>Now I give <em>him </em>a look. "What?"</p><p>He pinches my chin in his fingers gently to keep my gaze on him. "Veronica, know that anything and everything can be subject to change." He kisses my forehead. </p><p>I still don't understand. Not this room or the kissing thing. Wouldn't kissing in other places be more romantic and intimate than making out? I only kiss people I love on the forehead. But now it's my only option and it's <em>weird</em>.</p><p>"Mhmm." I cross my arms as he unlocks the door. "What even is this?"</p><p>He shrugs. "A... <em>playroom</em> of sorts."</p><p>"Ahh," I snicker. "The room where it happens." </p><p>
  <b>a/n: yes. all the hamilton puns. </b>
</p><p>"Oh, most definitely." He opens the door and low, syrupy lights are practically summoned from their slumber. He steps aside to let me in before closing the door again. I don't even flinch. </p><p>"Holy fuck," I breathe. "I've got to admit, this is pretty damn cool."</p><p>He leans against the wall as I explore, doing a three-sixty. The walls are a cherry-red type of wood, with racks or cabinets covering most of it. Within these cabinets is an array of things on varying degrees ranging from turn-on-able to medieval torture device. There's a wide bed, a little smaller than his, with satin-looking sheets in a beautiful red color. It's four-poster, with a gold ring attached to each. I turn my head to the side. To the right is all just <em>things</em>. To the left, a wooden X-shaped something with places to bind someone to.</p><p>Me. I'd be the someone.</p><p>I walk towards it slowly, studying. Then I look up. There's a grate-looking thing above me. That's all I can categorize any of this as. <em>Things</em>. I squint at it. The hell could that even be for? I can make some assumptions, and each are scarier than the last.</p><p>"Well?" Jason prods. </p><p>I shrug. My bare feet feel cold on the hardwood. It smells strange in here, like furniture polish and maybe citrus? I wonder who dusts. Surely he wouldn't have his housekeeper do it. But then again, I can't see him with a duster and rag. </p><p>I go to the rack of things against one wall. Some of them I can figure out, like whips and leather cuffs and floggers. But there's also wooden things of different lengths and thicknesses. I take one of the shelf and turn it in my hands. It feels flexible.</p><p>"Do I want to know what this is for?" I ask.</p><p>He walks over to me. "Caning. Hurts like a bitch. I'm reluctant about it. It's nothing I would involve you in. Especially not right away."</p><p>"Oh." I quickly put it back. A different thing catched my eye. It's just like the caning things, but with a loop of leather on the end. "What's that? It looks kinda like the things they hit horses with."</p><p>Jason laughs. "Well, that's where it comes from. It's called a riding crop." He takes it down, looking at me. "Hold out your hand."</p><p>"Um... okay." I do, palm up, and flinch. He hits me with it and it makes a scary snap sound. But it doesn't hurt. Maybe a mild sting. Like when he slapped me last night. "Mhm"</p><p>"Did it hurt?" he inquires.</p><p>I shake my head and look at my hand. It's not even red. "It was fine. But isn't the <em>point</em> of doing this for it to hurt?"</p><p>"There's a fine line between pain and pleasure. You can't really have one without the other. It's all about different sensations, not necessarily enjoying some degree of pain for kicks."</p><p>"You said not <em>necessarily</em>. What is that supposed to mean?"</p><p>He puts the crop away, then taking my hand and kissing my palm. "Different people are into different things. Some like pain more than others. But I like to keep it mild. I would never push you and we would take it very slow."</p><p>"I'm not saying no," I say as I walk back to the middle of the room. "I'm just a little hesitant. It's more the restraints that's taking me aback. You know I don't like confinement."</p><p>Jason sits on the edge of the bed with one of the leather cuffs in his hands. "Here. Let me show you how this works."</p><p>I sit by him and he takes my wrist, looping the cuff around me before working a complicated set of buckles. "Okay. Lay down."</p><p>I do and he clips the cuff onto one of the gold ring. "So I could do any number of things. Tie you to the bed, to your ankles, to the ceiling, with your wrists together. You would have the use of two safewords at your disposal. Grey to say you're nearing your limit of endurance and want something lighter, and blue as a full stop, "get this crap off me I'm done" sort of a thing. Never would I ignore a safeword. Ever. You will always have options. I promise."</p><p>"But why be tied up in the first place? I get the whole pain thing because it's a feeling. But being tied up is simply that."</p><p>"Here. Stand up." He unclips the cuff and pulls me to the center of the room. He reaches up and takes a leather strap hanging from this grate and pulls it down lower. It creaks. When it's at a height my short self could manage, he clips the cuff above me instead. He leans forward and kisses my cheek. Then he tickles me. I shriek.</p><p>"Jason, no, baby, stop!" I laugh.</p><p>He keeps tickling me and tickling and then I figure out what he's trying to do.</p><p>"Blue!" I giggle. He stops immediately and fumbles with the buckle of my cuff. I'm free in seconds. He pulls me into his arms. "I see your point."</p><p>Because it really does feel different when you're deprived of the option to move around. And I only had one wrist and he was <em>tickling</em> me. I can't imagine what it would be like otherwise. </p><p>"Ta-da." He smirks and kisses my nose. "Now I think that's enough show and tell for one day. Let's have some breakfast. Miss Walker usually starts cooking around now. I requested pancakes. Is that good with you?"</p><p>"Lovely." I wrap my legs around him and he carries me like a baby monkey into the kitchen. He sets me on the counter and kisses my belly. I play with his hair.</p><p>Miss Walker walks in meekly, going straight to the fridge. Jason smiles at me as he helps me down. I sit at a barstool and he pours me a glass of orange juice, kissing the top of my head.</p><p>"How did you sleep, sir?" Miss Walker asks. I could swear she has a teasing tone. Like she knows we didn't sleep a ton. </p><p>He wraps his arms around me from behind while I sip my juice. "Oh quite lovely. Had the time of my life."</p><p>I turn and give him a look. He kisses my cheek. Apparently, he and his staff or quite comfortable with each other. I would be dying of embarrassment. But it makes me think back to when Bud said he looked like a sewer rat. At the time I hardly noticed, but should that be something you say to your employer?</p><p>When the pancakes are ready, Jason and I eat together and Miss Walker scrubs the griddle pan in the sink. I feel a little bad. Maybe I'm just not used to the idea of a "housekeeper" yet. It's strange.</p><p>"Why don't you go get dressed and get your things together? I can drive you home," Jason says as we finish up our food.</p><p>I pop one last bite of pancake into my mouth as I nod. I scurry up to his room and find my clothes scattered on the floor. I snicker. Oh, Jesus, is being his sub what I'm going to have to do to be with him? I mean, I really don't hate the idea. I'm reluctant but I'm not tapping out. This is only round one.</p><p>I zip up my dress from yesterday with some difficulty. I scoop up my new e-reader and go down the stairs. Jason's pacing the living room, talking into a phone. I look at Miss Walker, wiping down the kitchen counter.</p><p>"Um, thank you for breakfast," I say. "It was delicious."</p><p>"My pleasure, ma'am." She smiles at me. "I hope I'll get to see you again soon. Robert tells me wonderful things about you."</p><p>I give her a confused expression. "Robert...?"</p><p>"Oh, the security, ma'am. Bud is Mr. Dean's nickname for him."</p><p>"Ah." I press my lips together. Jason's wrapping up his call. Apparently, the staff are friends too. </p><p>Jason walks into the kitchen and rests his hand on my lower back. "Ready to go, Ronnie?"</p><p>"Mhmm." I turn and kiss his cheek. "Bye, Miss Walker!"</p><p>She bids us goodbye as well and Jason leads me to the elevator with a waiting <em>Robert</em>. I cuddle into Jason on the ride down, legs squeezed together. He smiles into my hair, kissing me a dozen times.</p><p>"Can I trust you to drive yourself, sir?" Bud asks, raising an eyebrow. "Or should I drive Miss Sawyer so you don't get too carried away?"</p><p>Jason laughs at my expression. "I think we'll be fine. No promises."</p><p>"She is a lovely thing." Bud smiles at me. "Maybe I should work for her instead."</p><p>I cling to Jason's shirt and he rubs my back. He whispers, "Baby, we're almost at the bottom. It's okay."</p><p>"Yeah..." I look up at him and kiss his scruffy chin. "You need to shave."</p><p>"Ooooh," Bud teases like a middle school boy. "She told <em>you</em>, sir."</p><p>Jason rolls his eyes at him. "For you, baby, I will."</p><p>Now I roll my eyes at him. The elevator doors open and Jason pulls me into the parking garage from yesterday. He leads me along rows of cars before clicking a button on a key fob, making the lights blink.</p><p>"Are all these yours?" I ask nervously.</p><p>He gestures around. "This row. From the blue Corvette zr1 to the grey Audi. I also have a few collectibles I keep at my dad's with his collection. It's a family thing of ours."</p><p>"Huh. My mom and I trade <em>Good Housekeeping</em> magazines."</p><p>Jason laughs a little as he opens the passenger side door to some fancy black sports car for me. I slid in and he shuts the door. When he's behind the wheel, I turn to him.</p><p>"How does this raise? This seat is <em>so</em> low." I click my seatbelt into place. He gives me a look.</p><p>"Nice harness, baby," he teases as he reaches over to press a button on the side of my chair. I chuckle.</p><p>The drive home is long and quiet. I end up toying with my new e-reader, connecting it to the <em>Wi-Fi</em> Jason has in his <em>fucking</em> car! He tells me how to set it up and I pick a pretty background and download a free book I've been wanting to read, <em>The Body In the Library</em> by one of my favorites, Agatha Christie. I get to work on reading as Jason traces circles on my knee, driving along the interstate.</p><p>"Enjoying your present?" He muses.</p><p>I look up for a brief moment. "This is gold. I wish I had one <em>before</em> I graduated. Lugging around <em>War and Peace </em>and crap was no joke. I'm investing in blue-light glasses."</p><p>"I suggest Warby Parker." He smiles at me. "Alright. Sorry to interrupt you. Carry on."</p><p>I return to my reading with a grin that lingers. His hand on me knee sends heat and happiness through me. Like sunshine. When we arrive at my apartment, I hardly want to leave. I sigh as I close the flap of the case. I'll be up all night with this thing.</p><p>"Thank you for the e-reader," I say as I unbuckle. "And the ride and the lovely helicopter experience and dinner and breakfast and lunch yesterday and for the best night ever."</p><p>He leans over and kisses my cheek. "You are so very welcome<em>. </em>Do some research and text me any questions you have. I know it's a lot."</p><p>"Well, maybe we can plan on dinner Saturday? That's Betty and I's first full day in Chicago."</p><p>"I'll make reservations, then. And I'll even help you unpack." He kisses my cheek. "Bye, baby. See you soon."</p><p>I open the car door and wave, e-reader tucked under my arm and purse slung over my shoulder. "Bye, Jason!"</p><p>Betty's in the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl and dancing, singing along to <em>Only Girl </em>by Rihanna at the top of her lungs. When I set my stuff down she shrieks. I see that she's making brownies.</p><p>"Holy <em>FUCK!" </em>She rushes to me and throws her arms around me. She stole one of my big shirts again. That and nothing else. "Do I have a story for you!"</p><p>"So do I." I laugh, pushing hair out of my face.</p><p>Her eyes widen. "Oh, I bet you do. Did you do it?"</p><p>"Yes." My lips spread into a big, sly grin as she squeals. "It was wonderful."</p><p>She hugs me again. "Sit yo' ass down and tell me <em>everything</em>. I'll get these in the oven."</p><p>I really do end up telling her everything. At least, everything that I could. I leave out his offer. His sensuous, crazy offer. An offer I just might grab. </p><hr/><p>
  <b>why did i seriously <em>just</em> now realize that i subconsciously named the security guy after jd's dad and they have a weird jokey sort of relationship like in the movie that makes veronica a little *yikes*-ed out. I'm so stupid. i do that sometimes. make little plot things that i have to uncover as if I'm the reader. jesus,  i love writing. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>also the word Eskimo.... unintended hilarity. </b>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. cardboard box</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The week of packing is productive and filled with over-the-top singing, dance parties, rushed take-out, and cookies in the middle of the night. Betty and I have each box messily labeled and shoved full of stuff. Now all we need are the moving vans. And, as Betty, says,</p><p>"Where are those stupid boy toys?"</p><p>I glare at a box as I attempt to tape it shut. "They have to drive like five hours and I told them to bring pizza. Cut them some slack. And where'd you come up with <em>boy toy?"</em></p><p>"Sheesh. You need to spend more time on Urban Dictionary." She sets down her roll of bubble wrap, holding up her hand. "I hear footsteps in the hallway."</p><p>I roll my eyes just as the doorbell rings. "Give a round of applause for the psychic."</p><p>"Ha-<em>ha</em>, I'll be here all week." She scrambles to answer the door and I watch as she pushes Jason and his pizza boxes aside to throw her arms around Duke, who looks taken aback as he slowly reciprocates. I wave at my "boy toy."</p><p>He smiles at me and steps past the kissing couple to me. He sets the boxes on the cluttered counter and kisses my forehead. I run my hand up and down his arm, giving his shoulder a squeeze. </p><p>"Hi," I say.</p><p>He says, "Hi."</p><p>We laugh. </p><p>I tear apart the stuck together slices and serve up the pizza on those free paper plates they give you. Duke walks in with an 8-pack of baby Coke cans and Betty's arm around his waist. I raise an eyebrow at her and she sticks her tongue out.</p><p>Jason and I eat our pizza on the sofa, taping boxes as we do while the lovebirds lounge in the kitchen. He tuts teasingly, shaking his head.</p><p>"Kids," he mutters.</p><p>I snicker and throw a packing peanut at him. He swats it away. </p><p>"Anywho, how are you?" he asks. "Feeling okay?"</p><p>"Wonderful." I take a big bite and rest my feet in his lap. He chuckles and starts to rub my feet. My eyes widen as I swallow. Then he tickles me. God, I should've known. It was all a distraction.</p><p>After I've gotten him to stop and he's settled me next to him, taking a taping-break, I say, "I haven't gotten research done. I've been busy and distracted. What with my last day at Flemming's and packing and everything, I've completely forgot. Sorry."</p><p>"Fine by me. Do it when you want. I'm in no rush." He boops my nose. </p><p>I scrunch up my face at him like an angry troll. He kisses my cheek. "I have a five-hour car ride ahead of me. Betty's driving. I'll sit in the backseat and get to work."</p><p>"Perfect idea." He kisses my cheek again. "You're so smart."</p><p>When all the boxes and furniture are loaded onto either the moving van or Betty's car, we bid the boys goodbye. Jason gives me an Eskimo kiss and we grin at each other. Duke kisses Betty hard, lifting her off her feet.</p><p>"Our love is god, baby," he says. She giggles. </p><p><em>Love? </em>That's a bit presumptuous. </p><p>Jason looks at me and cups my face in his hands. "Our love is god," he teases and kisses my forehead. </p><p>Betty's quiet on the way, listening to a few episodes of a podcast she likes. I plug in my headphones, connect my laptop to my phone's hotspot, and get to it.</p><p>What I find is enlightening. After a while, I stumble upon movies and books and songs too. I digest everything I can. With two hours left of the drive, I decide to watch one of the suggested movies called <em>Secretary</em>.</p><p>Holy goddamn fuck. That's all I have to say.</p><p>Again it feels like the world's playing a joke on me. This <em>must</em> be a trend. A thing. I wonder what Jason's "problem" is. Why he likes it. Because that's the overarching theme. Problematic. </p><p>But there's also something else there. That through the problems there's support and trust and love. Something stronger. </p><p>Either way, I'm still at a loss. I'm not as horrified at the idea and I still think I might do it, but there's still a part of me that is screaming <em>NO!</em> at the top of her lungs. I look out the window, watching Chicago come into view. Betty pauses her podcast.</p><p>"Would ya look at that, hoe," she murmurs. "That's one <em>tall</em> building."</p><p>I swallow. "<em>That's</em> our building? Do you have the right address?!"</p><p>"Yeah. Well, shit. Looks like you're gonna have to get used to elevators."</p><p>"But how do we get our crap upstairs?!"</p><p>"This is gonna take <em>hours</em>." She groans as she pulls into the small parking garage on sight. </p><p>Betty's correct. It takes hours. Late, late, <em>late</em> at night, we finally get to pass out on a mattress. The movers kinda just put our furniture in the general area and pilled the boxes wherever they would fit. We have quite the job ahead of us. Good thing my first job interview's next Thursday.</p><p>-xXx-</p><p>"I suggest Sauvignon Blanc, Ronnie," Jason says, peering over my shoulder at the wine list I read. "That's what I'm getting. We can just have a bottle."</p><p>"A <em>bottle</em>? For two people?!" I laugh. "You've seen me drunk. It ain't a pretty sight."</p><p>He squeezes my thigh under the table. "Bud is driving us home. And this is wine, not your creepy ex's concoction. Have you talked to him since it happened?"</p><p>"No." I sigh. "I feel like I should. We were friends for so long. I don't know. He has a thing he invited me to in three weeks. I'll figure it out then."</p><p>"Fair enough." Jason leans back in his chair, surveying the people sitting at the eight-person table with us. I had never been to a Japanese steakhouse before, unless you count Benihana when I was five. </p><p>He traces his fingers up and down my thigh as I attempt to figure out chopsticks. When I give up, he leans in and kisses my nose. </p><p>"How does this work?" I ask. "And why is there a grill?"</p><p>He smirks. "That's the best part. They cook the food in front of you and do tricks and stuff."</p><p>"Oh." I grin. </p><p>After Jason and I decide on sharing a steak and shrimp dish, we sip our wine as we watch the show. The chef makes a volcano of onions and tosses a small square of chicken up and catches in his hat. I laugh and kiss Jason's cheek and we enjoy our food heartily. </p><p>At his place, he spreads my legs and kisses me until I unwind, looking at me with dark eyes burning with passion. We don't even do anything else. He just licks and kisses and explores me. </p><p>Is this would it would be like? The only difference being my wrists tied up?</p><p>I hold my own hand and rest them above my head, telling myself not to move. I manage it but it's not the same as when he tickled me with the leather cuff. When I'm snuggled into his chest, watching reruns of <em>The Office</em> with him, I ask the tugging question that was uncovered with my research.</p><p>"If we were to do this... what all would I have to do?" I whisper, turning a popcorn kernel over in my fingers, examining it. "I did my research in the car. It seems to me like it won't just be ties and floggers. I <em>know</em> that I would be some sort of... owned."</p><p>"Owned?" He looks at me quizzically. "Baby, no. You would have a set of rules. Very simple and nothing crazy. In sexual scenarios, I would be in charge. This is hard to explain. I know it sucks to say, but it's the sort of thing you just have to experience first hand."</p><p>I toss the popcorn up and catch it in my mouth. He claps and I smile, pecking his cheek. "What would one of the rules be?"</p><p>"My personal favorite is goodnight and good morning texts."</p><p>"Seriously?"</p><p>He smiles. "They're cute and fun. I like them. So that's a thing."</p><p>"Oh. What else?" I eat more popcorn. He pulls the bowl away from me, smirking.</p><p>"Healthy eating," he teases.</p><p>I pout. "You did <em>not</em> just steal my snack. Sir, do you have a death wish?"</p><p>"Here." He sets it in my lap and kisses my head with a little pat. "There you go, baby. You can keep it."</p><p>I hold a handful out to him. "We'll share. Happy?"</p><p>"Very." He kisses my nose. I smile. "I'll get a list of rules. I'd have to think about it a bit. How about I email it to you? Then we can collaborate on the document."</p><p>"Ooh. Fancy." I feed him a popcorn kernel. He kisses my fingers.</p><p>Jason ends up letting me stay the night. I sleep in another one of his shirts, curled into his fancy high-thread-count sheets. He strokes my back until I fall asleep and I wake with the same treatment. Does he not sleep?</p><p>After he drops me off at home, I get to work with the unpacking. When I check my email that night, I get to see his list of rules. He was quick about that.</p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>From: Jason Dean<br/>Subject: Rules<br/>Date: May 30th, 2019 18:25<br/>To: Veronica Sawyer</p><p>Attached is a document that you can add your thoughts to. I had a lovely time yesterday and hope you did too. By the way, that green skirt of yours looked lovely on you.</p><p>Jason Dean<br/>CEO, Dean Construction Inc.</p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>Well, goddamn he's fancy. I wonder if that sign-off is automatic or if he types it up every time. </p><p>I open the document and read through the list, ten in all. After sighing, I turn in and plug my phone in to charge.</p><p>
  <em>1. You will always be polite (No eye-rolling, failing to say please &amp; thank you, etc.)<br/>2. You will always wait to let me pull out a chair for you/ open a door for you<br/>3. You will not refuse any non-sexual affection (cheek kisses, hand-holding, etc.)<br/>4. You will respect both me and yourself at all times<br/>5. You will be completely monogamous and devote yourself to me, as I will be completely devoted to you<br/>6. You will obey given orders, assuming they do not infringe on your work, prior commitments, to-do list, or happiness<br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>7. You will eat healthy (of course with the allowance of snacks and treats and things. I'm no monster)<br/>8. You will work out in any way you please (go for a run, lift, yoga, etc.) at least once a week<br/>9. You will text me in the morning when you wake and before you go to bed<br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>10. AND THE MOST IMPORTANT RULE: YOU WILL <b>ALWAYS</b> COMMUNICATE AND BE HONEST!</em>
</p><p>I'm left with one question. How far does honesty go? </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. ice cubes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>NSFW</b>
</p><p>Once Betty and I are <em>moderately</em> unpacked, we invite the boys over both to celebrate and to help us change the lightbulbs to be eco-friendly. We're short little pains in the asses. After the lights are changed, Betty and Duke disappear into her bedroom once they've had enough of the champagne he brought as a gift.</p><p>Jason pulls my feet into his lap as I sip my own glass, smiling at him. We're lounging on my couch, talking quietly. About the rules, mostly. Updating them. Having him explain things.</p><p>He runs his fingers along the stubble on his chin that he needs to shave. "This could be the alcohol talking, but would you hate the idea of having sex?"</p><p>I giggle, finishing off my drink. "I don't know. Will you tie me up?"</p><p>"Is that you wanting a yes or a no?" He sets his glass down, loosening his tie. "Because I'll deliver."</p><p>I put my glass by his and pull my feet under me, holding out my wrists. "Do your worst."</p><p>"Oh, honey, this will <em>not</em> be my worst." He wraps the tie around my wrists, does some complicated tying maneuver, and holds my bound hands up to his lips for a kiss. "Too tight?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Do you remember the safeword I mentioned?"</p><p>I blanche. "Um... it was a color."</p><p>"Blue, baby. And grey is a warning." He pulls me to my feet using the tail of the knotted tie and leads me to my bedroom. He makes me lay down and loops the tail through my bedframe, pulling it tightly in a knot. "Comfy?"</p><p>"Very." I snuggle down into the blankets, smiling up at him. </p><p>He traces his fingers down my belly and I laugh because it tickles. He bites his lip. "Can I blindfold you?"</p><p>"With what?"</p><p>Jason pulls up my t-shirt and rolls it particularly so it covers my eyes. "Like that. Hold still. Don't move."</p><p>"I'm pretty sure that's what hold still means."</p><p>He swats my thigh. "I <em>thought</em> one of your rules was to be polite and respectful, Ronnie."</p><p>"Ah. Right. My apologies... <em>sir?"</em></p><p>"Jason will do." He kisses my nose. "I'll be right back."</p><p>I flex my feet, waiting. Is he purposefully taking forever? Is this part of his game?</p><p>Because I kind of don't mind... The anticipation is to die for.</p><p>The door closes and I turn my head, the fabric of my t-shirt rubbing on my face. Jason sets something down on the nightstand and I can hear his clothes rustle as he takes them off. I press my lips together, letting my mind travel to the first night we did this. The only other night.</p><p>"You look lovely like that," he says quietly as the bed sinks under his weight. </p><p>I smile. "I feel lovely."</p><p>"Wonderful."</p><p>He swings one leg over me, in nothing but what feels like boxers. He unclips my bra —thank God I wore one that undoes in the front— and brushes his fingers along my collarbone.</p><p>"We're going to have fun tonight, baby girl."</p><p>I feel his lips on my neck as something rattles to the left of me. He slips one hand into my yoga pants, rubbing me through the fabric of my underwear. I give him a breathless, chuckly groan.</p><p>Then there's something cold against my chest. Cold, wet, dripping. I recoil but he holds me still.</p><p>"Holy fuck," I whisper, laughing deep in my throat.</p><p>He rests the frigid thing between my breasts to say, "Ice cubes," before taking it in his mouth again and trailing it over my nipples. I pull on the restraints and try my best to soak up all this sensation. Between his warm body and cold lips, I don't know what to think.</p><p>But my body sure does. I wrap one leg around him to bring him closer, begging for more. His hand slips into my underwear. I inhale sharply when he sorta-kinda kisses me in order to leave the ice cube there.</p><p>"Drop that and I'll spank you," he says in this gravelly, sexy voice that turns me to jello. I concentrate hard on parting my lips enough to hold it in place. Jesus, this is hard. </p><p>Jason pulls off my leggings and underwear, spreading my legs apart. "As beautiful you looked in your Rolling Stones t-shirt, I much prefer naked Veronica."</p><p>"Mhpmh," I try, panicking when the ice cube starts to slide. I catch it with my head tilted to the side, heart racing. Close call.</p><p>He laughs as he runs his fingers between my legs, counteracting the chilliness of my upper half with the warmth of my lower. I try to anticipate where he'll touch next, but it's impossible. With the blindfold on, all I can do is trust him.</p><p>And that's the most wonderful feeling of all.</p><p>"You good there?" he teases in reference to my ice cube dilemma. </p><p>I huff. "Assistance, please."</p><p>"Fine. Only because you're a newbie." The playful edge in his voice makes me smile. "Here."</p><p>He removes the melting ice cube and then a new one is on my stomach. I scrunch up my face. It's like being on a tilt-a-whirl. Jason brushes his nose along the inside of my thighs, making me groan. </p><p>"We don't have a condom," I hiss. </p><p>Jason tuts. "You doubt my prepared-ness? What we don't have is lube. So we'll see how this goes."</p><p>"Oh." I adjust my arms. They're a little tired. </p><p>He kisses me, hands on both my hips and massaging. I smile at the touch. </p><p>Then the package of a condom is being torn open and a shiver runs through me. The ice cube is melted, now just a little chip with cold water running down my belly. Jason lifts my hips up slightly and I wrap my legs around him.</p><p>He tucks his hands under my shoulders and holds me to him. I moan as he eases inside me, a tight and wonderful feeling bubbling deep in my stomach. </p><p>"That okay, baby?" He asks, a little kiss pressed to my jaw.</p><p>I nod and tuck my face in his neck. He slowly rocks his hips back and forth and I grip my bedframe. He speeds up gently, breathing heavily and kissing me all over. I feel a sort of spiral starting. I squeeze my legs around him. Suddenly I'm angry I can't move my arms. The idea's heavy and crushing me.</p><p>"Jason," I hiss.</p><p>He hugs me closer. "Come on, baby. Is this okay?"</p><p>"Yes." I kiss his shoulder and pull on the restraints. God, they're tight.</p><p>I moan as we release quite nearly simultaneously. He hugs me close to him, breathing my name. </p><p>He presses his forehead to mine and sighs, kissing my nose. We stay like that for a while until he slowly pulls out and presses gently kisses to my belly. I giggle.</p><p>"Here, let me untie you, baby." His hands work at the knot and release me, then pulling me against his chest. </p><p>I pull off my bra and t-shirt and cuddle into him. He rocks back and forth in a soothing motion, kissing my head. I close my eyes. Why am I so tired?</p><p>"Do you want some water?" he asks, shifting me out of his arms and onto the mattress. He pulls on his boxers.</p><p>I nod and wrap myself in the blankets. "Will you snuggle with me?"</p><p>"Yes." He pats my head before peeking out of my room to make sure the coast is clear. </p><p>Jason returns with a glass of water and I sit up to take a sip. He sits behind me and strokes my back. I sit down the cup and he takes my hands, rubbing feeling back into my palms. I watch. His big, strong, warm hands holding my tiny pale ones. I give them a squeeze.</p><p>"How do you feel? Does anything hurt?" he asks.</p><p>I shake my head, drowsily. "I feel transcendent."</p><p><em>"Transcendent</em>,"he says. "That's a new one."</p><p>He lays me down and tucks blankets to my chin, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his chest. I fall asleep there in a dreamy peace. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. papercuts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>NSFW</b>
</p><p>After I'm somewhat unpacked, I decide to finally come to a decision. After all, it's been about two weeks since he mentioned it and I think that if it's ever a time to try something new, it's now. I'm out of college, ready for my interview tomorrow, in a new city, and having the time of my life.</p><p>Jason greets my excitement with an equal amount of thrill. I sit at his island, watching him fry me a grilled cheese for lunch. I had mentioned that I was ready the morning after we first tried anything remotely beyond my comfort zone and <em>loved it</em>. So when I had a free moment, he swooped me up and over to his place.</p><p>He sets my plate in front of me as I nibble on a strawberry. He pats my head and takes one half of our shared meal. </p><p>"So when do we start?" I ask, smirking.</p><p>He shrugs. "When we're done eating, I guess. Actually, no. That's a bad idea. Let's give it a bit after we eat."</p><p>I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder. He traces his fingers up my back. </p><p>"I have something to show you. I think you might like it."</p><p>I swallow my bite of cheesy goodness. "Well, considering the <em>last</em> time you had something to show me, I'd say so."</p><p>"Dare I say you'll like this better."</p><p>From that statement, I scarf down my food. </p><p>Jason leads me with a hand on my back down a hall to the left of the kitchen. There's two rooms. What looks like a bathroom and then two double-doors with glass windows. He opens one and leads me in. It's dark in here. He walks across the room and pulls open two pairs of curtains. The room floods with light.</p><p>"Oh. My. God." </p><p>This is better than the Beast's library.</p><p>Well, maybe not. But it's gorgeous.</p><p>The shelves are a gorgeous white and glow with the flip of a switch. The books themselves don't appear to be in any order. But damn, are they pretty. Pristine hardback, all in a row. There's one central cube that the rest branch off of. I walk to it. The books in this box aren't all fancy and hardback. Some are, but most are ratty paperbacks or books with little half-off stickers on them.</p><p>"What's this?" I ask, gesturing to the misfit collection.</p><p>He smiles. "My favorite books of all time."</p><p>"Woah." I pick up the first one I see, this one a nice hardback in the collectible edition. <em>Stephanies</em>. I gasp. "You read Winona Ryder?! Holy shit, marry me."</p><p>He laughs. "That one's my favorite of hers. I've read all of them and I'm reading an arc of her next book, currently."</p><p>"This one's my favorite too!" I hug it to my chest. "It's so pretty."</p><p>"Should I leave you two alone?" He leans against a desk that's in the corner, across from a cushy sofa. </p><p>I shake my head and reshelve the book, continuing my scan. I mutter titles as my awe grows. <em>"Wuthering Heights... The Book Thief... The Great Gatsby... Macbeth... LITTLE WOMEN?!?</em> No really, when's the wedding?!"</p><p>"Jo's a babe, what can I say?" He gives me a dopey smile. </p><p>I cross my arms. "Do you have these organized?"</p><p>"I don't have the time or patience."</p><p>"Well, after I'm done packing, I'll fix it for you." I turn to him. "You know, your sexiness just about tripled."</p><p>"Ha-ha. Duke calls me nerdy."</p><p>"Well, he doesn't know shit then." I walk over to him and kiss his forehead. "You become more Mr. Darcy every day."</p><p>He cups my cheek. "How flattering. I don't think I could ever imagine a character good enough to compare to you, darling."</p><p>"Your flirting is insufferable."</p><p>"But it's most ardent."</p><p>I run my fingers through his hair, pressing my forehead to his. I wish he would kiss me. I press my lips together. I want him so badly.</p><p>He instead kisses my cheek, so close to my mouth I could scream. Just the corner. I tighten my grip on his hair. Is this a game? Is that what this is?</p><p>Jason stands up and then he's lifting me. I giggle and wrap my legs around him.</p><p>In all my book-loving life, I never expected I'd live a life worthy of one.</p><p>He carries me slowly to the room I've dubbed "The Red Room." I keep my gaze on his eyes, my hands behind his head, caressing his neck. He stares at me too and damn, if I thought I felt known the last time we did this...</p><p>I let him set me down, immediately aching for his warm arms again. He locks the door behind us before turning with a grin on his lips. </p><p>"Strip to your panties," he says playfully, practically bouncing on his toes. </p><p>I smile as I do. He bites his lip. He does that a lot. Maybe it's his way of stopping the urge to kiss. </p><p>"Kneel, facing the door. Palms flat on your thighs."</p><p>I obey. He unbuttons his shirt and slips it off. I watch him pull open a drawer from one of the side cabinets and remove a hair tie. He kneels behind me and parts my hair into three sections.</p><p>He starts to braid. "Now, when I tell you to come in here, you will be like this. Hair braided, kneeling, <em>smiling</em>, and waiting." He kisses the back of my neck softly. "Okay?"</p><p>"Okay." I touch my plait. It's tight and perfectly done. "Why the braid?"</p><p>"It keeps your hair from getting caught in things." He walks in front of me again, tipping my head up to look at him. My stomach starts to clench again. "You have such lovely blue eyes. I want to look at them. Do not take them off me again."</p><p>He leads me to the large red bed and has me lay down on my stomach. He retrieves two leather cuffs from the rack on the wall and returns to me. Jason buckles one around each wrist before connecting them and clipping them to a gold ring. He kisses my shoulder.</p><p>"Comfy?" he asks quietly, his fingertips brushing my back.</p><p>I close my eyes, soaking up the light touch. "Quite. I thought you wanted to look at my eyes."</p><p>"This is round one, baby girl." He unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall before climbing onto the bed beside me. He strokes my back slowly, starting to massage. I moan a little. It's such a nice touch, one I'm not used to. </p><p>My heart starts to quicken when he pulls down my panties. He makes me get up on my elbows and knees, sitting between my legs. My whole world starts to spin when he kisses me. I try to concentrate but too many things are happening at once. His tongue is dancing in and out and around me, dragging whimpers of pleasure out of me while his hands caress my hips. I pull at the restraints. For a moment I kinda forgot they were there.</p><p>I can feel him smile against me. "Don't pull, baby. If we ever try rope or handcuffs, it'll hurt if you do."</p><p>"Hmph," I mutter. He chuckles. I look over my shoulder at him and his eyes flick up. "That feels good."</p><p>He nods and turns back to kiss me more. He seems so focused. I let my head droop back down with a grin on my face. My legs are practically shaking. I take a deep breath. </p><p>"Oh," I whisper. "Oh, Jason... oh."</p><p>"Oh? Have I rendered you monosyllabic?" He presses one last kiss to my ass before the bed creaks. He unclips the cuffs to connect them to a different hook with me on my back this time, butt on the edge of the bed. He kneels down in front of me and rests my legs on his shoulders, holding my hips again. </p><p>I ache for him. This crazy wanting sensation to just <em>feel</em> him takes me over. </p><p>"Jason, please," I whisper.</p><p>He smiles teasingly. "You have <em>no</em> patience. I wanna play with you some more."</p><p>"Gah." I glare at him. He tuts.</p><p>I let my eyes close again. Now he's running his fingers up and down my outer thigh as he <em>licks </em>me. Oh. This is weird. But nice. I feel that same urge to squeeze my legs together as before. Do I like this? I can't decide. It's only ever happened three times, anyway. Not enough data points to draw a conclusion.</p><p>He looks up at me with a smile. "Wait right here," he says.</p><p>"Yes, because I have so many other places to be." I pull on the cuffs, making the golden loop rattle against the metal clips. He chuckles as he opens a different drawer than the hair tie one. </p><p>Jason returns with a foil packet and a bottle of lube. He squeezes some of the latter onto his fingers and kisses me one last time before slowly rubbing it on me. I shiver. This will never stop being uncomfortable. </p><p>He rolls on the condom before crawling on top of me. He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose.</p><p>"Are you ready?" he asks. "Tell me if anything hurts."</p><p>I nod and tuck my face into his shoulder. He eases into me with his lips firmly on my forehead. I hiss. Okay, this isn't as comfortable as last time. Why? If anything, it should be <em>more </em>comfortable. No virginity to deal with and we have lube, for God's sake! Why is it like this?</p><p>"Mh, Jason," I murmur. </p><p>He runs one hand through my hair, tilting his head to the side. "What's the matter, baby?"</p><p>"This isn't comfy."</p><p>"One second then." He takes one of the pillows at the end of the bed and slips it under me, has me wrap his legs around him, and rests his arms under me. I chuckle. That was quick. "Is that any better?"</p><p>I nod. "Try... yeah, try it again."</p><p>He pushes in slowly, gently kissing my nose. My eyes flutter closed. Ah, much better. He moves back and forth, slowly building in intensity. Is it always this soft? So... mild? Or is he being all easy on me?</p><p>"Harder," I groan. </p><p>He obliges, still holding me as close as he can. I cry out the faster he goes. Oh, this is more my style, I think. </p><p>I love that about all of this. Figuring things out with him. Having him show it to me. </p><p>"Ooh, baby," he moans, one arm holding me while his other makes a fist of the sheets. "Is this okay?"</p><p>I nod wildly. He gives me a smile and kisses my jaw. I wish I could hug him back. </p><p>When he finishes, he groans my name into my neck and I turn my face into my arm to hide my crazy whimpers. I really don't know if I came but I really don't care. It doesn't matter. I do know that it felt <em>so</em> good. </p><p>My stomach feels so strange, even after he pulls out. He releases me from the leather cuffs and I give him a wicked smile.</p><p>"We're not gonna go again?" I tease.</p><p>Jason laughs. "You want to?"</p><p>"Yes." I trail my fingers down his chest. "Hands free, too."</p><p>"Do you wanna try topping?"</p><p>"I'll be horrible."</p><p>He shrugs. "No better time to learn, then."</p><p>Jason peels off the condom and sets it awkwardly near the bedpost on the floor. We share a chuckle. He lays back and I purse my lips.</p><p>"What do I do?" I ask tentatively. </p><p>He tucks his arms under his head, laughing. "Whatever you want. I'm yours."</p><p>"Oh." I look him over. My eyes linger briefly on his crotch. Jesus, that was <em>in</em> me. Crazy. But nice. "Okay. Um... yeah."</p><p>He smiles as I straddle him. One hand reaches up and strokes my breast and I giggle. I rub against him and he bites his lip. </p><p>I lean down slowly, my braid falling over my shoulder, and I kiss the corner of his mouth. I bring my kisses down his neck slowly. Jason traces his fingers up and down my sides while I smile at him. </p><p>"You're really handsome," I say, blushing.</p><p>He wraps his arms around me. "You're beautiful, too. Really beautiful."</p><p>"Aw." I rub my nose against his and he laughs. </p><p>The whole ordeal afterward is a mess, to say the least. Jason does his best to teach me but in the end, I get so frustrated. And then I'm embarrassed and then I'm wondering why the fuck I ever thought being this vulnerable was a good idea. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. bubbles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>i love these aesthetic chapter titles. </b>
</p><hr/><p>"Shhh, no, no. No tears, baby." Jason kneels down in front of me. "Tears are a no-no. Why is my Veronica sad? Honey, it's <em>okay</em>. You're not going to be perfect the first time."</p><p>I press my hand to my mouth and sob harder. He touches my cheek. "Wait right here, I have something for you."</p><p>"I d-don't even know w-why I'm crying," I whine. "It's not that big of a d-deal!"</p><p>He sits on the bed beside me with a big tote bag. "It happens. Here. This is an 'aftercare kit.' An old sub thought of it and it has yet to fail me."</p><p>"Oh." I swallow. Comments like that always make me feel like I'm just that. His fucktoy. But that could be my bad mood talking. </p><p>"Does anywhere hurt, darling?" he asks as he unfolds a big and fuzzy grey blanket. I nod as he drapes it around me. "Where?"</p><p>I pull the blanket tightly around me. "My wrists. And my stomach."</p><p>He digs around in the bag more.</p><p>I blow a stray piece of hair out of my face as I sigh. "It's kinda crampy."</p><p>"Alright, baby, hold out your hands for me." He shakes a bottle of lotion before squirting some out on his hands. "This is vanilla and chamomile lotion. It will help soothe the pain, okay?"</p><p>I nod and let him rub it into my hands and lower arms. He kisses my fingers gently.</p><p>"What's your favorite flavor of Gatorade?" he stands up, kissing the top of my head. He walks over to the far corner to a little black mini fridge I didn't know was there.</p><p>I shrug. "I don't know, white?"</p><p>"Ah, one left." He walks back to me. "I'll have to pick some more up. I want you to drink all of this, okay, baby?"</p><p>I take it from him and unscrew the lid. "Why?"</p><p>"Because it's sugary, has electrolytes, and will help hydrate you." He pats my knee. "And because I said so."</p><p>I stick my tongue out at him and he smiles. Jason then pulls out some fancy chocolate bar and breaks off a piece. This is like Marry Poppin's bag or something.</p><p>"Here," he says, putting the square in my palm. "You get one as a treat. Later, you can choose a candy you want to keep in here, along with anything else you might want. Okay?"</p><p>"Mhmm." I nibble at the square. It's sweet and rich and definitely better than Hershey's. "How... how many subs have worn this blanket?"</p><p>"Most." He frowns at me. "You can pick out your own blanket, honey. Would that be better?"</p><p>I lean over and curl into him. "Please."</p><p>"I also want you to pick out some cotton underwear and cozy socks. Perhaps a hairbrush if you would like me to brush your hair. Anything you want, sweetie. Just take a deep breath. It's okay, Ronnie." He scoops me and my Gatorade up and it's then I notice he's dressed again. When did that happen? While I was curled into myself and crying?</p><p>I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. "Where are you taking me, Jason?"</p><p>"To give you a bath." He locks the door behind us and kisses my forehead. I tuck my head into his chest and sigh, holding the bottle close. I feel like a child with her blankie, folded into a parent.</p><p>He sets me on my feet and draws me a bath. "What color do you want it?"</p><p>"What?" I chuckle, going for the tissue box on top of the toilet. My feet feel like ice on the freezing tile.</p><p>"Bath bombs. They're pretty and smell good. Want one, dear?"</p><p>I purse my lips. "Do you have purple?"</p><p>"Yes." He plucks one from a Christmas tree under his sink. "I won this in an office party White Elephant. Everyone laughed. I made good use of it."</p><p>He drops it into the sink before digging through another drawer. I sit on the edge of the tub and look down at my toes. They look so pretty since he painted them the other day during the lightbulb and ice cube escapade. Jason holds out two little pills to me.</p><p>"Take this." He kisses my forehead before starting to unbutton his shirt. I take a swig of my drink before knocking them back. I give him a quizzical look. "Tylenol. For the cramps."</p><p>"You have this down to a science," I murmur as his pants drop.</p><p>He grins at me. "I have to, don't I?" His boxers go too. "I want you to be comfortable."</p><p>Jason kneels down and takes both my hands, kissing them. He then makes me stand and drop the blanket. I shiver. But the water is warm and smells like lilac so I don't mind. He massages shampoo into my hair as I play with the bubbles in the tub. It's one of those foamy bath bombs with sparkles in it, too.</p><p>I blow on the mound of bubbles in my hands and they disperse, floating away. He laughs, taking the detachable shower head and rinsing my hair out with warm water. I let him pull me even closer against his chest when he's finished.</p><p>"You like the bubbles, baby girl?" he says, kissing my neck.</p><p>I nod and close my eyes. "I feel better, Jason."</p><p>"I know. Kisses, candy, and pretty baths never fail." He starts to rub my shoulders. It's like a weight's been lifted off them. "Is that Tylenol helping?"</p><p>"A little." I reach for my Gatorade bottle and take a swig. "Why do you do all this?"</p><p>He runs his fingers through my hair, kissing anywhere he can that's above the water level. Is he thinking? Distracting me? I melt into the kisses. They're like caresses by an angel, dripping with honey.</p><p>"Well, there's the practical reason. You were crying and in pain. Things like Gatorade and Tylenol are gonna help with that. But also because this is bonding, baby. Taking a bath together, washing your hair, giving you kisses. You shouldn't have to be upset."</p><p>I sink lower into the water so it tickles my chin. He rests his on the top of my head. My toes don't reach the end of the tub even now. He has to hold my arms to keep me from slipping under.</p><p>"Do you wanna talk about what happened?" he asks.</p><p>I frown, blowing on more bubbles and watching them float along the surface. It's like a different planet with floating islands and purple sand. I swirl the water with my hand, making little whirlpools. Jason chuckles to himself, saying I'm cute.</p><p>"Do you wanna talk about it?" Jason murmurs into my hair with a kiss. He's no doubt referencing my panic attack of regret in the Red Room. </p><p>"Not really." I sigh. "I don't feel like a conversation."</p><p>He pulls me back to him and I yelp, giggling. "That's alright, honey pie. But we will talk. When you're ready, though."</p><p>"Thanks." I look back at him and he kisses my nose softly. He cups my face in just one of his big hands and holds his lips there. I smile. "You're wonderful."</p><p>He smirks. "Obviously."</p><p>"Meanie." I poke him in the chest and he gasps playfully, clutching his chest like he's been shot. I keep poking and he sinks lower in the water, an arm in the air as a faux plea.</p><p>"Goodbye, cruel world!" he moans.</p><p>I turn and straddle him, laying my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around my waist as I snicker.</p><p>"Would you look at that! I've been saved by the touch of an angel."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. babydoll dress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>NSFW a little ig</b>
</p><p>I breeze through my interview the next day with flying colors. Maybe I'm making pennies on the dollar, but it's the time of internship that I need. Especially if I want to make a life out of this. The wonder that is the written word. </p><p>Jason was thrilled for me and we ended up taking a stroll along the lake, sharing a churro as a date. We briefly chatted about the happenings in the Red Room but the blush in my cheeks allowed us to move on. Move forward. </p><p>The bubbles of fear still reside in my belly. But his sunny embraces and silky words do good at popping them. </p><p>"My parents," Jason says as I take a bite of our shared churro, "invite us and any plus ones we have to a family dinner every Friday, assuming we're not too busy. We've had movie night, taco night, whatever. So tomorrow's game night if you want to come with me, darling."</p><p>I brush cinnamon sugar off my lips with a smile. "I mean, sure? I'd love to meet your family."</p><p>"They'd love to meet you, too," he says, pulling me closer on the cool bench. The sun is setting slowly, threatening us with her bright reds and soft yellows. I rest my head on his shoulder.</p><p>When it's sure to be dark, we toss our wrappers in a trash can and cross the street. It was that easy! His building has the most lovely view. Up the elevator we go, wrapped in each other. And then to the bath with rose-scented oils. Then it's the bed with wet kisses and caresses and laughter. </p><p>In the morning, the sweet morning sun peeks through his drapes. I roll over, careful of Jason's arm, and cuddle into his chest. He stirs, arm going around me in a tight grip. A smile spreads across my face. <b>(a/ n: like butter?) </b></p><p>"Pancakes?" he says quizzically in a low growl, obviously not much of a morning person.</p><p>I sit up and take a whiff. "I think so. Maybe waffles." I glance at the clock and flop back, moaning. "I have to get home. I shouldn't have stayed the night. I have work."</p><p>He scowls at me playfully. "You talk too much."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>I let him kiss my temple before we both slide out of bed. His eyes flick over my naked body as mine do the same to him. We chuckle together.</p><p>"When should I pick you up?" he asks. "Dinner's at six."</p><p>"Whenever. I get off at five. So... yeah." I rifle through his underwear draw for the spare pair I tucked back there for me. </p><p>Jason emerges from his closet dresses in a grey suit and fiddling with his cufflinks. I rush over to help him and he kisses the top of my head. I really don't have the time, but I scarf down a pancake with him before rushing home to dress in work-approved clothes instead of my date-approved jeans. </p><p>When I get there, my boss is giving me a look. I'm not even late!</p><p>"Miss Sawyer," he says, his voice dripping with salty sweetness. "You look like you had a good night."</p><p>My brow furrows. "Excuse me?"</p><p>"You have a sort of... <em>pep</em> in your step." He leans against the doorframe to his office as I plop in my desk chair right in front of his glassy room. "Was it a date?"</p><p>Now as much as I hate talking to him about this, I just want him to leave. "Yes."</p><p>"Ah. Do you have a boyfriend, then?"</p><p>I take a deep breath. I can't snap at him because he's my fucking <em>boss</em>. "Yes, Mr. Kelly. He's very nice. Now, if you'll excuse me-"</p><p>"For the last time, call me Kurt, Jesus." He rolls his eyes,  scooping up the stack of papers from in front of me. "You should smile more, Veronica. I'm sure your <em>boyfriend</em> would like that."</p><p>As soon as he shuts the door to his office, Lisanne from the desk catty-corner to me groans. "Oof. I hate his guts."</p><p>"Mhmm." I grit my teeth and flip open my computer. I have an email from Jason.</p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>From: Jason Dean<br/>Subject: Thoughts of an Angel<br/>Date: June 3rd, 2019 09:21<br/>To: Veronica Sawyer</p><p>Hello darling. I know you're at work so I'll keep it short. A bulleted list, have you.</p><p>• You left your phone charger at my place</p><p>• I physically cannot stop thinking about you right now</p><p>• I'm in a meeting but it's whatever</p><p>• I had fun last night</p><p>• When can we do that again...?</p><p>Yours, babygirl. </p><p>Jason Dean<br/>CEO, Dean Construction Inc.</p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>I clear my throat as I cross my legs. How to play this? </p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>From: Veronica Sawyer<br/>Subject: Re: Thoughts on an Angel<br/>Date: June 3rd, 2019 09:22<br/>To: Jason Dean</p><p>Well, if you're nice enough, I can get my charger today. And quite hopefully you'll ask me to stick around. Also, you should be working. And now you have me stuck thinking of <em>you</em>.</p><p>Your babygirl xx</p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>I open a new tab and block out the noises of work as I pull up the to-do list I've written for myself. So I uncap my green highlighter and get to work on a manuscript I'm pre-reading for Kurt. But my phone buzzes.</p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>From: Jason Dean<br/>Subject: Re: Re: Thoughts of an Angel<br/>Date: June 3rd, 2019 09:24<br/>To: Veronica Sawyer</p><p>And when you do I expect a proper and polite Veronica for me to play with. Enjoy your day. Make sure you eat all your lunch and drink your water. I will see you tonight and the panties better be ready to come off. 🥰</p><p>Yours, bunny.</p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>I glance up to make sure no one's looking over my shoulder.</p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>From: Veronica Sawyer<br/>Subject: Re: Re: Re: Thoughts on an Angel<br/>Date: June 3rd, 2019 09:25<br/>To: Jason Dean</p><p>Yes... sir? Wherever did you get bunny from?</p><p>Your Ronnie :)</p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>It's a while later, roughly an hour, that he emails back. </p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>From: Jason Dean<br/>Subject: Nicknames<br/>Date: June 3rd, 2019 10:35<br/>To: Veronica Sawyer</p><p>To refer to another bulleted list which I would like your thoughts on: </p><p>• bunny- in reference to "rope bunny." i. e. you like to be tied up. i thought i would play with the idea. this could be a few levels up though. a name like "kitten" would be in this category, too. </p><p>• darling/dear/love- formal. very PG. </p><p>• baby/babe/babygirl/babydoll- a little more risqué, though not really. for playing. </p><p>• princess- to show how adored you are. </p><p>• honey/ honey bun/ sweetie/ sweetheart/ sweet pea/ pumpkin- gentle. very tender. for cuddling</p><p>• Veronica- serious conversations or just when the situation calls for it.</p><p>• Ronnie- my special name for you, seeing as I have yet to hear a single person say it to you other than me. </p><p>What would you like for dinner, Ronnie?</p><p>Yours, princess. </p><p>__________________________________________________________________</p><p>I message back that I'll eat whatever, just no red meat because it makes me sick to my stomach. So I always have turkey meatballs with the best meal in the world: spaghetti. </p><p>When I leave that day with an armful of papers, reminding myself to invest in some sort of briefcase, I could swear Kurt Kelly was staring at my ass. At a body that belongs to Jason alone. I hope he won't be an issue because I love everything else about Chicago Independent Publishing. Down to the type of coffee they have by the printer. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. park place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>obviously i don't feel like writing out every. single. smut. scene. every. single. time. so instead i breeze past the ones that don't matter to harp on the ones that do. </b>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>in reference to your nickname list, you may call me "my pearl" but only on Sundays. "goddess divine" is also acceptable, but only for very special occasions. </em>
</p><p>I slip my phone into my purse as the elevator doors open. Jason told me the code. When they do, piano music and the sound of food sizzling greets me. I walk in, my shoes clicking on the floor. I set my bag down.</p><p>"Hello, my dear," I say as I lean against the piano, interrupting Jason's sonata. </p><p>He looks up at me with a smile. "Hello, darling." He holds out his hand. "Come sit."</p><p>I wedge between his legs and watch him play, tracing my fingers up and down his legs. He rests his chin on my shoulder and we stay like that until dinner's ready. Spaghetti. How did he know?</p><p>"I had no idea you played," I say as I take my seat on the bar. He must not have a dining room table. I guess as a single guy, he doesn't really need one. </p><p>"For a few years. Saxophone, too." He pours me a glass of white wine before stopping himself mid-pour. "Wait. If we're having sex, we probably shouldn't drink-"</p><p>"It's fine, Jason." I pick up my fork. "A glass of wine won't kill us."</p><p>He frowns. "Alright. I don't want any, though."</p><p>"M'okay." He fills my glass. "Thanks."</p><p>Jason nods and watches me take a sip. "You <em>do</em> want to-"</p><p>"Yes." I smile at him and kiss his cheek. "I came with the intention. I'm not as lightweight as you think I am."</p><p>He scoffs. "I don't know, you were pretty tipsy the other night."</p><p>"You have no <em>idea</em> how much of Ram's little concoction I had."</p><p>We eat our dinner, chatting with each other and Ms. Walker. We exchange tomato sauce recipes. Then Jason's pulling me to his bedroom. My throat tightens with excitement. I let him seductively strip me and kiss me all over, but not the thighs, and give me smiles. </p><p>I cling to the sheets for what feels like hours of bliss. </p><p>Friday night, Jason's right on time. I wore my nicest dress, the one I wore to graduation, and walk to the door on Jason's arm. He pecks my cheek as he rings the doorbell.</p><p>A smiling woman with her brown hair twisted back in a bun greets us. She has pieces falling out of her 'do and a pencil strung through it. She looks wonderful. I can really see the resemblance between her and Duke.</p><p>Before she can get a word out, a blonde girl is bounding down the steps and shrieking.</p><p>"Jason!" she laughs as she jumps into his arms. "I've missed you!"</p><p>He hugs her tightly. "I've missed you too, silly."</p><p>Her gaze turns to me. "Oh my god, is this your girlfriend!? She's so cute! I approve!"</p><p>"Thanks," I chuckle. She's hugging me too now. She kind of smells like cherries. </p><p>Jason rolls his eyes playfully. "Veronica, this is my sister, Heather. She just got back from a semester abroad."</p><p>"France, <em>la mignonne</em>." She pulls me into the house. "You speak French, don't you? Now I have someone to practice on!"</p><p>I laugh. Jason follows me and so does who I assume is his step-mother. I'm dragged from the hallway into a wide and glorious living room with a roaring fireplace. It's so homey here. Feels like I'm back at my parents'.</p><p>"Ah, the lovely girlfriend!" a man says as he folds a newspaper, sitting up in his armchair. "High time you get yourself one of those, munchkin."</p><p>Heather giggles. "The girls back in France were very nice, Daddy. I went out with one of them. But... eh."</p><p>She sits on a couch and drags me with her. I smile at Jason who traipses into the kitchen. </p><p>"Alrighty, that's Dad," she says in a hushed, teasing tone. "And there's Mom. She runs a fashion magazine. Well, part-time now, anyway. Duke, who's four years older than me, is on his way with his girlfriend. I'm the youngest by eight years. But I don't mind it. Do you have any siblings?"</p><p>I shake my head. She talks <em>so</em> fast. I thought that <em>I </em>was a chatterbox!</p><p>"That's sad. Less headache, though."</p><p>Jason gives her a look as he comes in with a tray of hot cocoa. "If anyone is causing headaches, it's you."</p><p>"Come on now, be nice, we have company," Mrs. Dean scolds jokingly. </p><p>Jason waves me over for a second. I quickly follow him into the kitchen to fetch spoons and marshmallows. He kisses me for a long moment on the forehead. </p><p>"I know Heather's a lot," he says. </p><p>I shrug. "She's fun. But that's your step-mom, right? And Duke and Heather are step-siblings?"</p><p>"Yeah. Courtney got divorced when Heather was two. Married my dad two years later. But Duke and Heather still kept their dad's name. Dunno why."</p><p>I shrug and gather the silver spoons from the drawer. This kitchen is gorgeous. </p><p>"I like them. They seem nice. What game are we playing?"</p><p>-oOo- </p><p>"Monopoly!" Heather cheers as she sets the box in front of us. We've eaten dinner and now each couple is paired up on a sofa, cuddled together. Heather's on the floor next to the coffee table on a stack of throw pillows. "Jason, I assume you want the top hat?"</p><p>He laughs. "You know me well."</p><p>"Something tells me Betty and I are at a severe disadvantage," I say. She agrees, sipping her cocoa. </p><p>Mr. Dean and Jason share a look. A "fight to the death" look. </p><p>"Last time Jason beat me was the day I retired," he says. </p><p>Jason smirks. "One could wonder why."</p><p>He plays banker. Soon I'm practically losing, only Betty's behind me with about a hundred dollars to bank. I hold my one title deed close. Jason laughs as his father lands on Boardwalk, christened with a hotel.</p><p>"Pay up, Pops," he says, hand outstretched.</p><p>His father shuffles through his money. "Goddamn it. I'm short a hundred." </p><p>We all laugh as he pulls out his wallet. Jason rolls his eyes.</p><p>"Admit defeat," he says.</p><p>Mr. Dean sighs. "That girl of yours is good luck." He presses the play money in his son's hand. "Keep her around."</p><p>"I have all the intention to do so."</p><p>The next day, a card with a check for two grand shows up in the mail along with a note.</p><p>
  <em>I would love to keep you around, my darling. Here's to being my good luck charm. Buy yourself something nice. Maybe bring Miss Finn along. She has impeccable fashion taste. </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>for mrs. dean (Courtney) think shannen doherty with like sherrie willis eyes ig idk</b>
</p><p>
  <b>also in case you didn't know 2k is the rent price for boardwalk with a hotel </b>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. rope burn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>NSFW</b>
</p><p>I let my eyes close as the door clicks shut quietly. Jason hums low in his throat, playful.</p><p>"You look lovely," he says. I look at him as he bends down to kiss my forehead. "Thank you for listening to me."</p><p>I smile a little. "Why ever wouldn't I?"</p><p>"My sweet girl." He trails his kisses down my face, across my jaw. Always just teasing my lips. "We're going to have fun. Do you trust me?"</p><p>I nod. My palms on my thighs feel sweaty. I'm beyond excited. </p><p>We're trying this whole thing again. We talked about the last time in a more frank way. I feel like this might really be something I could do. I certainly don't mind the more tame exploits. </p><p>"Alright. Stand up." He helps me to my feet. I feel a little silly in these panties. Betty took me shopping. And good <em>hell</em> did we shop. I felt bad with all that money. So we split it three ways, each of us getting a cut and the other I gave to a local bookstore that had trouble making rent last month. They were so grateful. I've begun to frequent their shop and pick up a few freebie hours to help out. </p><p>I let Jason cuff my arms to the wall where that strange wooden X is. Now I see the purpose. He trails his fingers down my belly, tracing the hemline of my panties. I giggle. </p><p>"I won't blindfold you, at least not this time. I want you to watch and tell me how everything feels, okay?" He starts to unbutton his shirt. </p><p>"Okay." I lean forward a little and he pecks my nose with his lips. </p><p>Jason walks to one of the chests against the opposite wall and returns with a small, slim wand of sorts. A vibrator, perhaps?</p><p>"Have you ever used one of these?" he asks.</p><p>I shrug. "Maybe a few times in high school. But not really. I'm more... manual?"</p><p>He laughs. "I'll start you on a low setting, okay? It might feel kinda tickly."</p><p>"Oh my. What am I getting myself into?"</p><p>Jason tucks my braid over one shoulder, turns on the vibrator, and gives me a smile. My heart quickens. He gently drags it along my collarbone, a slight tickle that makes me giggle. </p><p>"You have such an adorable laugh, baby," he says, kissing my shoulder. "Let's see if I can get a moan out of you too."</p><p>I watch him trace my breasts like he's painting a masterpiece. He makes contact with my nipple and I tense. <em>Wow</em>. I make a wimpy little noise when he turns it up a notch. </p><p>"That's nice," I breathe while his other hand cups my opposite breast. </p><p>He runs it along my stomach. His mouth is on me everywhere, warm and wet and gentle. I gasp when he nips the skin of my thigh with his teeth. It's funny, the way he dances around the line of soft and rough, slow and firm, pleasure and pain. I want more. I want it all.</p><p>I quiver a little when he teases me. He likes doing that. Watching me unravel before him. I try to shift so he'll touch where I want him to, but I can't move enough. Jason laughs quietly, slowly brushing his tongue against my panties. </p><p>"Mmmm," I can't help but groan. </p><p>He traces the outline of my panties with the vibrator, promising one thing and giving another. I want to beg him. I know that's what he wants. And I'm not afraid to be at his mercy. </p><p>"Oh, please," I whisper. "Jason, <em>please</em>."</p><p>He looks up at me, lips pressed to my panties. He gives a teasing kiss. "What do you want, baby girl? Tell me."</p><p>"I... I just... I don't know."</p><p>Jason shrugs. "Well, until you figure it out, I guess I'll just keep-"</p><p>"No, no, nevermind! I can tell you. It's just weird to ask. But... uh, please just... no more teasing. I wanna go all the way. Take off my panties."</p><p>He smirks. "Yes, ma'am." And he carefully slips them off and tosses them away. My stomach twists and flips like it's trying out for a traveling circus. </p><p>"Yes," I hiss, closing my eyes as the tickly feeling grows stronger, pressed against me. I move my hips a little for the right angle. Jason rubs in circles, drawing all sorts of moans out of me. "I think... ah, Jason, can I... can I come?"</p><p>"Of course you can." He adjusts his angle a little, farther back, leaving room for his mouth to work. I kinda fold inward, moaning loudly. "There's my sweet moan. Go ahead, sweetheart. You can finish."</p><p>I gasp as he spreads my legs wider and rests them over his shoulders, face buried in me. The vibrator's forgotten, but a tickly feeling remains. I feel bubbly and light and I squeeze my eyes shut. </p><p>"Oh, Jason!" I cry out. </p><p>I'm slowly coming off the spiral. The crazy, beautiful, messy, loving spiral.  He looks up at me with blazing eyes. </p><p>"Are you done? Or can I have a little playtime with you too?"</p><p>I laugh. I hadn't thought about the idea of going again. But goodness, now that my body is absolutely <em>singing</em> for him, I want to give him a cut of the action. </p><p>"Yes, please." I grin at me. </p><p>He undoes my cuffs and tosses me onto the bed, making me giggle. I wait on all fours like he wanted and watch over my shoulder as he unbuttons his pants and kicks them off. The way he slowly strokes himself as he eases into me makes me feel like warm honey or summer rain. Simply so happy that he's mine. And that I'm his. That I'm capable of making someone feel this good, too.</p><p>"Are you comfy enough, my baby?" he asks, pulling me closer as he starts to rock back and forth. </p><p>I nod. This might be my favorite thing of all. Not for the pleasure, which is stronger in different activities, but for this intimacy. The <em>feeling</em>. I want to just kiss him all over and tell him how I feel.</p><p>But he doesn't want that. He doesn't want a girlfriend, no matter how badly his parents want him to. I swallow and stare down at the sheets.</p><p>"Veronica, oh, yes!" He tips his head back. His hands are on my hips, holding me with warmth and security. "Ah, can I come in you?"</p><p>I smile. "Yes. Yes, please!" </p><p>I'm so infinitely glad that I started birth control. Because the feeling of au naturale is so grandiose. I feel a sort of spiral again. A different spiral. But a spiral all the same.</p><p>He pulls me to him the second he finishes, back into his lap, him still deep inside me. I lean back against his chest. Maybe the first time or two this was uncomfortable, but now I wish we could be even deeper in each other. </p><p>Jason kisses my sweaty hair.</p><p>"Oh, baby," he pants. "That was something. Did you like it?"</p><p>I nod, turning my face into his neck. "So wonderful. Every second."</p><p>"Completely." He wraps his arms around my waist, rubbing my belly and pressing in tiny areas that send delicious little feelings through me. I smile tiredly.</p><p>"I like when you touch my tummy," I mumble. "It feels really nice. I'm calling you next time it's shark week."</p><p>He laughs. "Anytime. I'm really good at massages. I've taken classes."</p><p>"Ooh." I shift in his lap a little and he sinks deeper into me. Now the belly-rub feels even better. </p><p>"How about this for after-sex cuddles?" He kisses my shoulder. "Are your wrists alright?"</p><p>I show them to him. "Seem fine. They don't hurt."</p><p>"Ah. Come on, we need a bath. I'm thinking lots of bubbles to play in?"</p><p>I wrap my arms up and around his neck, laughing. "Yes, please. Sir?"</p><p>"You call me whatever you want."</p><p>"Yes, please, my love."</p><p>He smirks. "Very well then, goddess divine." </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. shower thoughts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>NSFW</b>
</p><p>My mother calls me early the next morning. Jason left about ten minutes ago to go to the gym downstairs. I stayed in bed. But I reach for my phone with a yawn.</p><p>"Hey, Mom," I say groggily.</p><p>She shrieks. "Guess who got his cast off!"</p><p>"Oh, really!?" I exclaim. "How is he?"</p><p>"Wonderful. Back to golfing. He tried to take me once. The best score I got was a double bogey. It was horrendous. But how are you, darling?"</p><p>I exhale loudly through my lips. "So much has happened, Mom. I can't believe I haven't called you in <em>so long</em>. It's been like three weeks! But I've just been so busy with work and... oh, Mom, I've got a boyfriend."</p><p>"Shut up! You do not! Is he cute?!"</p><p>I laugh with her. "So cute! I'll text you a picture. I actually just woke up in his bed..."</p><p>She gasps. "Oh, you cheeky little thing. Was it fun? I hope it was. You need to tell me things! Is he still there?"</p><p>"No. He went to the gym in his fancy shamnsey penthouse building or whatever."</p><p>"Fancy shamnsey penthouse?" She giggles. "Do tell me more. Is he rich?"</p><p>I scoff. "Like Croesus. It's a funny story. More like a crazy story."</p><p>I tell her everything. By the time I'm done, Jason's coming back all sweaty. I wave at him.</p><p>"Well, um, I have to go, Mom. I love you!"</p><p>She chuckles. "I love you too- oh! That reminds me why I wanted to call you. Really, please, come and visit. We haven't seen you since March. We miss you!"</p><p>"Hm... I'll see if I can get off work for a few days. I miss you too."</p><p>"Hey, bring the stud. I wanna meet him! What do you even <em>serve</em> for someone that rich?"</p><p>"I'm sure you'll figure it out. Bye!"</p><p>"Bye! You enjoy your literal <em>dream</em> of a life, sweetie."</p><p>I hang up, grinning. Jason tugs off his shirt and flips on the ceiling fan.</p><p>"Your mom?" he asks.</p><p>I nod and sit up in bed. "We're planning a visit. I told her all about you. She's quite impressed."</p><p>"Ha! How much did you say?" He raises an eyebrow. "Because I think your mother wouldn't <em>quite</em> approve of our little arrangement."</p><p>I smirk. "She knows as much as I could bear to tell her. I definitely told her we had sex. Nothing about the Red Room, though. I promised I'd keep your secret like you'll keep mine. Such a gentleman."</p><p>"Well, my dear lady," -he bows for me- "I need a shower. Would it be too skirt-ruffling to ask you to join me?"</p><p>I set my phone on the nightstand and wiggle out of bed. "Count me in. Question: can you have sex in a shower like in the movies or is that a bad idea?"</p><p>"Oh my goodness." He slaps my butt as I dart into the bathroom. "I think I've had <em>enough</em> exercise today, baby."</p><p>"What'd ya do? Do you lift or something?" I flex, putting on a playfully deep man-voice. "I do a couple hundred reps myself every mornin'."</p><p>He laughs, doing some sort of complicated switch and lift thing to get the shower water to come on. We strip down and he gestures in an "after you" way. I step under the warm water. His shower is like a spa from Heaven. </p><p>Jason wraps his arms around me for a moment, sighing. I wiggle into him. Maybe I can get him to let <em>me</em> do the work. </p><p>"Veronica," he murmurs. "Now whatever are you and your cute booty doing?"</p><p>I snicker. "Oh, please, let me go down on you. You don't even have to do anything! I haven't done it to you yet and I <em>really</em> want to try it."</p><p>He raises an eyebrow. "Do you even know <em>how?"</em></p><p>"Well <em>excuse you</em>. Of course I do. I'm not the best but it's not like I haven't done it before."</p><p>"But you were a virgin when I met you...?"</p><p>"Hey, I'm not <em>completely</em> inexperienced. Cut me some slack." I squat in front of him. "It's just been a while."</p><p>He shrugs. "Have at it, I guess. I never really know what to do... I don't get a lot. I don't know. It's weird. I always feel bad doing something that's like <em>just</em> for me."</p><p>"Who said I don't get a kick out of it?" I kiss his stomach. "Now <em>shhh</em>. Enjoy it. Just enjoy it. This is for you and that's perfectly okay. You can be selfish sometimes."</p><p>Jason rests his head against the tile wall and I settle myself comfortably on my knees. He has the perfect tile for this. It doesn't really hurt. I gently kiss his curls before running my tongue through them. He gives me a little smile when I look up. </p><p>"Do you mind having your balls touched?" I ask, innocently batting my lashes.</p><p>"Oh, I love it." He pulls back my wet hair and holds it for me. I run my nose along the outline of his abs. Wow, he really does work out. I wonder how hard? I'm terrible about it. Maybe he can help me. </p><p>I start in on his sculpted thighs. I press soft kisses all along his skin, raking my nails along his other leg. And then I switch. He whispers my name, a "that's good" tacked to the end. I smile against his skin. My hand moves to his balls and I give him the slightest bit of a squeeze. He sucks in his breath.</p><p>"Yes?" I ask. "Was that too hard?"</p><p>He shakes his head. His eyes are closed. He must be having a good time. I am, too. I like this about him. He's open to trying stuff out too. He doesn't just expect me to do whatever. And I <em>really</em> like exploring him. </p><p>I kiss his tip with a racing heart. He's in a soft state of erect, I guess. I don't know. It's so weird. I'll never understand it. But I start to lick anyway. Pure pleasure is definitely something I <em>can</em> get behind. </p><p>"Ohhhh, Ronnie," he groans. <em>"Wow."</em></p><p>I bring my tongue down and he tightens his grip on my hair. I cup him in my hands, just playing with him. This is actually <em>so</em> fun. I feel so sexy. Much better than having a crusty little cock shoved down your throat first thing. Now I get to watch him unwind, knowing he'd be up for the same for me if I wanted it. I know I can trust him with my body. Something I can't say about a lot of people. </p><p>"Sweetheart," I whisper, taking his tip in my mouth before backing off. "You're my sweetheart."</p><p>Jason hisses through his teeth when I slide him into my mouth. It feels so strange, so wonderful. I rub his belly. That's what he did to me. Is it the same? I'd think so. He seems to like it. I bring my hands down again, back to his legs and just caress my way up and down.</p><p>He moans again. It's so wildly erotic. I guess I do the same thing when his mouth is all over me. But in essence, I'm not doing much. Just moving my head up and down and touching him with feather-light strokes. I take a breath and a break, kissing along his length instead. He seems just as content. I return my attention to his incredible accessory. The moment my fingers brush against him, he whimpers my name.</p><p>Woah. Okay. Now <em>that's</em> hot. </p><p>I look up at him again. "You're so mesmerizing," I tell him, lips on his tip just to tease him.</p><p>He drops my hair to cover his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm being way too loud."</p><p>"No, no, I like it. I'm not the only one who's allowed to make noise." I take him in as deep as I can. He shakes a little. I think he's getting close. I don't know how. Maybe it's how new it feels? He never finishes this fast. </p><p>"Ronnie," he growls. "Oh, Ronnie, baby, don't stop."</p><p>It's hard not to smile. I want him to just <em>finish</em>. I want to taste him and watch him fall apart because goddamn it, I made him feel good. And I feel good too. I feel so warm and bubbly and soft. I feel loved. And I think he does also.</p><p>He's not quite salty but not quite sweet. Either way, it's hella attractive. I press kisses up his belly and chest before wrapping him up in my arms. He tucks his face into my neck as he sighs. Something's off about him. He doesn't seem all post-orgasm bliss. </p><p>"It's official," I say to make him feel better, "on my knees is the best way to be."</p><p>Jason shakes his head. "I don't ever want to do that again."</p><p>"Wha- why not? You seemed like you liked it!" I pull away from his hug to cup his face. He pushes my hands away. "Darling? What's wrong? Does something hurt? I was so careful about my teeth becau-"</p><p>"It's not that. Just... get out."</p><p>My eyes widen. <em>"Jason!</em> What is <em>wrong</em> with you? Why are you so upset, baby?! It's okay, I <em>promise!"</em> I try to hug him again. "Come on, cuddles'll make you feel better."</p><p>"No, they won't." He pushes me away again. "That was a huge mistake. Just get out so I can get ready for work."</p><p>I frown. Now I feel teary. He watches my lip wobble with teary eyes of his own. I start to cry.</p><p>"Veronica-"</p><p>"No! You can't <em>do</em> that! It's not fair! You're not allowed to just push me away!" I press my hands to his chest. "I made you so sad and I want to make it better!"</p><p>He wraps his arms around me, tears running down his own cheeks. "You're not gonna understand."</p><p>"I think I will. I want to try." I hold him tighter. We just cry together for a while. I've never seen him cry. Come to think of it, I've never seen a guy cry. That's not right. "Baby, you just let it all out."</p><p>He starts to sob into my shoulder, long after my tears are dry. I slide down the wall and open my arms. He curls into me and keeps crying. I kiss the back of his neck.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he whimpers. "I'm so sorry."</p><p>I shake my head, stroking his back. "Don't be. You're allowed to feel sad. You're allowed to want comfort. Don't ever forget it."</p><p>"It shouldn't be like this." He turns into my stomach, practically in my lap. I'm glad he isn't. I think he'd be too heavy. "It's just... I feel..."</p><p>"Tell me. Tell me whatever's on your mind. You're too stressed, honey! Just take a deep breath and tell me. I'll wash you."</p><p>I make him stand and start in on his hair. He bends a little so I can reach. I listen to him tell me all about how worried he is about this new land deal. And how he doesn't sleep enough. And that he always feels so irritable after we have sex but usually he feels better when we cuddle. But today he just pushed it away.</p><p>He's crying again when I'm rinsing off the soap on his body.</p><p>"Ronnie, when I heard you talking about your mom, though..." he sighs. "My dad and I don't have that. And I don't <em>have </em>a mom. I guess I just miss her. It just all bubbled up and I tried to focus on you but I couldn't. I faked so much of that. I didn't really <em>orgasm</em> also much as just ejaculate. And then I was angry at myself because I lied to you. I'm sorry I snapped at you."</p><p>I kiss his throat carefully. "It's okay, baby. We all have bad days. I didn't know you weren't in the right headspace for that. See? This is why we have to be honest. Can we do that?"</p><p>"Yes." He holds my face and rubs his nose against mine. "You're my dearest."</p><p>"You're mine, too."</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. ily</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Can I really not persuade you to take the upgrade?" Jason asks, hands on my shoulders, face close to mine. "It's a hundred more. Come on, baby. Let me spoil you."</p><p>I shake my head, grinning. "I think I'll like economy. It seems cozy."</p><p>"Fine, fine." He kisses my chin. Every time he kisses my face, it seems to creep closer to my lips. "Stay safe. Call me when you land. I'll see you in a few days."</p><p>"Bye, darling!" I wrap my arms around his neck. He hugs me close for a moment. </p><p>The speaker talks. <em>"Now boarding Group C."</em></p><p>"That's me." I rub my nose against his. "Don't miss me too much!"</p><p>"Impossible."</p><p>He smiles and waves at me as I pull my suitcase to the door. I blow him a kiss before turning. My seat <em>is</em> cozy, against a window, and I pull out a book quickly. I read my way home. I would've driven, except Jason insisted I fly. He paid my ticket even though I said he didn't have to. I guess it's nice this way. I've never gotten the chance to fly.</p><p>It was scary at first. But that weightless feeling of take-off reminded me of a roller coaster's drop. It made it fun. The world looks so vast from this high. It's beautiful.</p><p>I text Jason a silly selfie of myself with the bunny ears filter while I wait on my parents' car to show up. I use the caption: <em>i think this look suits me</em>. </p><p>He responds that it very much does and that once I'm home, we'd play with some ropes to prove it. I fantazise what that would entail until I see the old grey Corolla. My thoughts scatter and I run to my mother as she steps out. We hug tightly.</p><p>"Hey, sweetie!" she says. "Aw, you look so lovely. Chicago's doing you good, huh?"</p><p>"Yes! I love the lake and the river and it's so wonderful, Mom." I kiss her cheek. "Where should I put my suitcase?"</p><p>She gestures to the trunk and I stuff it in before sliding in the backseat. Dad turns around and I lean forward so he can kiss my cheek, too. He smiles at me.</p><p>"Hey, kiddo! Long time no see!" </p><p>I grin. "I missed you both. Oh, and Mom, guess what."</p><p>She raises an eyebrow while buckling herself in. "I assume you'll tell us anyway."</p><p>"Obviously. Jason has a meeting in Colombus on Friday and said he can stay the weekend with us to meet you. I already met his parents and they're so nice. He has a step-brother Betty's dating and a really nice siser, too."</p><p>Mom's eyes widen. "Well... maybe you and Betty'll finally get to be sisters after all your silly talk when you were girls."</p><p>"MOM!" I shriek, laughing. "Jason and I aren't... we aren't <em>that</em> serious."</p><p>"You never kno-ow!" Dad sings. He looks happy with his shades on, driving along the highway. "Your mother and I met at a college party to hook up and here we are."</p><p>I roll my eyes. "Y'all are <em>nasty</em>. Personally, as the spawn of that hookup, I am nauseated."</p><p>Mom giggles, giving Dad a dreamy look. I make fake gagging noises. </p><p>Jason texts me a selfie of himself, now wearing the same bunny ears. I laugh. He's written <em>i don't think it looks as good on me. i'm more of a cat ears kinda guy.</em></p><p>I show my parents, not daring to explain the irony of the bunny. They say he's handsome and humorous, all true things. My mother and I find one with cat ears and send our picture to him.</p><p>
  <em>How adorable. You both look very pretty. My meeting's about to start but have fun with your parents, honey bun!</em>
</p><p>I practically float through the next few days. It seems like no time at all until Jason's knocking on my door with two boquets of flowers. White roses and some purple things that are absolutely gorgeous. I smile at him and wrap my arms around his middle. He laughs.</p><p>"Why hello to you too, sweetheart," he says, kissing the top of my head. "Can I come in?"</p><p>"Yes! We made a cheese plate. To be all fancy or whatever." I shut the door behind him and look at the flowers again. "Are one of those for me? Because they're really pretty."</p><p>Jason gives me a silly grin. "Of course. Here you go." He holds out the boquet of white roses and I take them and give them a little sniff. I grin too. </p><p>My mother looks up from her lasagna recepie and presses her hand over her heart. "Dear me, you two look good together. Robert, come downstairs! He's here!"</p><p>Dad comes down the stairs in seconds. I laugh. He still has his glasses on. Maybe he's retired, but that doesn't stop him from finding <em>something</em> to do. Currently it's crosswords. </p><p>"Hello, sir," Jason says, shifting the other boquet to his left hand to shake my father's right. "Pleasure to meet you both. Veronica speaks well of you."</p><p>My mother comes around the kitchen island and offers to get a vase for the flowers. Jason passes them to her. I hold mine closer. </p><p>"I thought the thing was red roses," I say. </p><p>He shakes his head. "I bought you white roses because they represent pure adoration, darling. And your mother has dahlia's. For new beginings."</p><p>"Aww," my mother and I saw in unison before laughing. I kiss Jason's cheek. </p><p>We quickly settle on the couch with our cheese, laughing and talking. I help my mother finish dinner while "the boys" talk, as Mom said. Really, my dad's interrogating Jason.</p><p>He confirms my suspicions later that night as we lay in my bed. I trace shapes on his stomach with his arm around me. I drape my leg over him and sigh happily.</p><p>"They liked you," I say.</p><p>He smiles. "They did. Your dad grilled me big time. That was stressful. I think he's satisfied, though."</p><p>"Would he approve of the fact we just had sex in my childhood bedroom?" I tease. </p><p>"Dear Jesus, I hope they couldn't hear. You have a squeaky bed."</p><p>I lay my head on his chest. "Yep. Oh shit! Someone's coming down the hall! Pretend to be asleep!"</p><p>We tuck the blankets up high and lay completely still. When the footsteps stop, we burst out laughing. I scoot over to be lying on my back. Jason pulls me in and settles my butt comfortably against his stomach. We both turn to kiss each other's cheek and end up pecking lips. I smile and kiss his nose.</p><p>"Oops," I giggle.</p><p>He fake-scowls at me. "How dare you. Come here, you silly thing."</p><p>I shriek when he starts to tickle me. I wiggle away and hit him with a pillow. Jason pulls me back in and I flop on his chest. He holds my wrists behind my back. I kiss his throat.</p><p>"Comfy?" he muses.</p><p>I nod. "Very. But not really. Let me go, please."</p><p>I settle back in his arms, his chest on my back, and let myself be enveloped in his body. He presses kisses along my neck and it sends shivers through me.</p><p>"So... <em>pure adoration?</em> I don't think there's anything pure and virginal about me, darling."</p><p>Jason shakes his head. "Virginity is a sexist social construct. And I'm allowed and capable of desiring you as <em>well</em> as wanting to take you on sweet dates and give you kisses and all sorts of courtship-things. Pure adoration. I adore you."</p><p>"Courtship? That's what this is?"</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>I sigh happily. "I still feel like I gave up something still. In "losing it" or whatever."</p><p>"I guess you did. You gave me something. You let me be with you so intimately." He turns his face to look at me. "Both your trust and your submission is something I have to earn. It's not a right. It's a gift you give me."</p><p>I touch his cheek. "You've earned it, honey. Now maybe I'm still totally scared of certain physical pursuits, and maybe I'm not going to like all the bells and whistles of this whole thing, but I know even if we're the most vanilla couple to ever exist, I will still see you as my dom, lover, and best friend."</p><p>"I think I'm falling in love with you. But it isn't falling. It's easing." He presses his forehead to mine. "I've eased into love with you."</p><p>Tears bubble up in my eyes. "I think I've eased into love with you too."</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. incandescently happy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>guys if you haven't seen the 2005 pride and prejudice, watch this scene so u get it all!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zg7YhN-I2M0">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zg7YhN-I2M0</a>
  </strong>
</p><hr/><p>"So there's a surprise?" I ask as Jason leads me by the hand down a rocky path, towards the black water.</p><p>He smirks. "Indeed."</p><p>"Alright." I lean my head on his shoulder. </p><p>The walk is far from treacherous, but I'm still thankful I have Jason's hand to hold. Lake Michigan blows a chilled wind in our direction when we walk out on the dock. Jason unbuttons his top shirt button with a smile.</p><p>His parents are having another dinner. It was make-your-own-pizza night. We snuck out. </p><p>I watch him untie the rope keeping a bobbing rowboat in place. He waves me over with one foot in it and helps me down. I sit on the floor of the boat and smooth out my plaid skirt. He climbs in across from me and sits criss-cross.</p><p>My mother will die when I tell her this. I left a few days ago and I miss her already. </p><p>"How lovely," I say, looking up at the stars. </p><p>He shrugs as he starts to row us out. "Pray I don't get us lost."</p><p>I stare at the picnic basket behind him, trying to act as if I don't. When we reach the middle, he drops an anchor. I snicker. He narrows his eyes at me playfully.</p><p>"So the basket?" I prod.</p><p>He reaches behind him and sets it in between us. I lean back and watch him unpack. A Tupperware of spaghetti, two wine glasses and a bottle of my favorite kind, two forks, and a candle with a box of matches. He sets the candle between us precariously and strikes a match to light it. It illuminates his eyes, showing the warmth in them.</p><p>"Delicious," I say as he hands me a fork.</p><p>"I didn't bring plates. We can eat out of the container."</p><p>I take my filled glass of wine from him and take a sip. "This is a mess waiting to happen."</p><p>"Maybe." He raises his glass and clinks it against mine.</p><p>We eat our food happily as I point out different constellations to him. It's a beautiful night. Not a cloud in the sky. </p><p>"When's your birthday?" I ask, setting down my wine glass. "You haven't told me."</p><p>He shrugs. "November 24th."</p><p>I laugh. "Of course. Scorpio-Saggitarius."</p><p>"What?" He takes a bite of our meal. "Is there a joke here, or...?"</p><p>"I'll tell you when you're a little older, sweetie," I say, patting his knee. He rolls his eyes.</p><p>I point out his constellations before showing him mine, Leo. I lean back in the boat and cross my ankles, sighing contentedly. He slips off my sandals and starts to rub my feet, making me laugh. When the boat almost tips, we freeze.</p><p>"Don't breathe," I hiss.</p><p>He gives me an amused look. "Okay."</p><p>We slowly move to pack up our drinks and empty food before tucking the basket behind him again. I shuffle over to sit between his legs and we rest like that, his fingers trailing up my stomach and chest before going back down again. It makes a warm, fluttery feeling fill up my belly.</p><p>"You're my favorite person," I say quietly.</p><p>He tells me to turn around. I do. He cups my face in his hands and whispers "My darling" before kissing my temple. </p><p>"My sweetheart," he murmurs and then kisses my forehead. I grin. </p><p>He presses his lips to my cheek. "My baby girl."</p><p>His gaze lingers on my eyes as he kisses my nose. "My everything."</p><p>"My Ronnie."</p><p>Jason presses his lips to mine. I quickly reach in and hold his face close. He hugs me against him. I feel like someone electrocuted me with life and passion and <em>joy!</em></p><p>"Look," Jason murmurs against my lips, gesturing upward with his eyes, "shooting stars. Make a wish, baby girl."</p><p>I look up and he starts kissing my neck. "I wish I could be yours."</p><p>"You already are."</p><p>
  <b>End of Book One</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>the scorpio joke is this, according to Allure:</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>"Scorpios simply know what they want and aren't afraid to work hard and play the long game to get it. They never show their cards and their enigmatic nature is what makes them so seductive and beguiling. Scorpio is the sign most closely associated with sex: The part of the body that Scorpio governs is the genital area."</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>also this is a purposeful recreation of the scene above that's from Pride and Prejudice (2005)</strong>
</p><p>
  <b>i.e jason did it on purpose because he knows she loves it and if a guy (or girl. or nonbinary pal) does this to me damn do you want a chocolate or vanilla wedding cake? </b>
</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. some cute picrews for you all :)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>just some pictures and info and stuff that i made on picrew.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>oh yikes. here's a picrew for everybody teehee:</p><p>jason dean, CEO *oOoOo*:</p><p>
  
</p><p>veronica sawyer, badass: (do ya get the joke with the necklace? it looks like a chocker or whatever? ya know? like the o-ring ones? hahaha i crack myself up) </p><p>
  
</p><p>ram sweeney, friend zoned:</p><p>
  
</p><p>duke macnamara, hot preppy nerd:</p><p>
  
</p><p>betty finn, sexy mother fucker: (background has nothing to do with her sexual orientation. i thought they were just really pretty)</p><p>
  
</p><p>heather macnamara, chic bitch with connections:</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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